Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2008  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/coinofedwardviidOOIiume 


A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 


Popular  Novels  by  Fergus  Hume 


THE    SECRET    PASSAGE 

Th*  Albany  Evening  Journal  says:  "Fully  as  interesting  as  his  former 
books,  and  keeps  one  guessing  to  the  end.  The  story  begins  with  the  murder 
of  an  old  lady,  with  no  apparent  cause  for  the  crime,  and  in  unraveling  the 
mystery  the  author  is  very  clever  in  hiding  the  real  criminal.  A  pleabing  romance 
runt  through  the  book,  which  adds  to  the  interest." 

I2mo,  Cloth  bound,  $1.25 

THE    YELLOW    HOLLY 

The  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger  says:  '"The  Yellow  Holly'  outdoes  any 
of  his  earlier  stories.  It  is  one  of  those  tales  that  the  average  reader  of  fiction  of 
this  sort  thinks  he  knows  all  about  after  he  has  read  the  first  few  chapters.  Those 
who  have  become  admirers  of  Mr.  Hume  cannot  afford  to  miss  •  The  Yellow 
^o^y-'"  izmo.  Cloth  bound,   $1.25 

A    COIN    OF    EDWARD    VIL 

The  Philadelphia  Item  says:  '•  This  book  is  quite  up  to  the  level  of  the  high 
standard  which  Mr.  Hume  has  set  for  himself  in  '  The  Mystery  of  a  Hansom 
Cab'  and  'The  Rainbow  Feather.'  It  is  a  brilliant,  stirring  adventure,  showing 
the  author's  prodigious  inventiveness,  his  well  of  imagination  never  running  dry." 

izmo.  Cloth  bound,   $1.25 

THE    PAGAN'S    CUP 

The  Nashville  American  says:  "  The  plot  is  intricate  with  mystery  and  prob- 
ability neatly  dovetailed  and  the  solution  is  a  series  of  surprises  skillfully  retarded  to 
whet  the  interest  of  the  reader.  It  is  excellently  written  and  the  denouement  so 
skillfully  concealed  that  one's  interest  and  curiosity  are  kept  on  edge  till  the  rery 
lut.      It  will  certainly  be  a  popular  book  with  a  very  large  class  of  readers." 

1 2mo,  Cloth  bound,   $1.25 

THE    MANDARIN'S    FAN 

The  Naihville  American  says :  "  The  book  is  most  attractive  and  thoroughly 
novel  in  plot  and  construction.  The  mystery  of  the  curious  fan,  and  its  being  the 
key  to  such  wealth  and  power  is  decidedly  original  and  unique.  Nearly  every 
character  in  the  book  seems  possible  of  accusation.  It  is  just  the  sort  of  plot  in 
which  Hume  is  at  his  best.  It  is  a  complex  tangle,  full  of  splendid  climaxes.  Few 
authors  have  a  charm  equal  to  that  of  Mr.  Hume's  mystery  tales.  " 

1  2nio,  Cloth  bound,  $1.25 

G.     W.     DILLINGHAM     COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW   YORK 


A     COIN      OF 
EDWARD     VII. 

A  DETECTIVE   STORY 

BY 

FERGUS  HUME 


author  of 

'the   mystery   of  a   bansom   cab";  "the   pagan's   cup' 

"claude  duval  of  9s  "  ;    "  the  rainbow  feather,"  stc. 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1903,   by 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 


A  Coin  of  Edward  VII.  Issued  February,  igoj. 


C^- 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  f'AGE 

I.    The    Christmas  Tree 7 

II.     An  Anonymous  Letter 16 

III.  A   Mysterious  Visitor 26 

IV.  The  Churchyard 37 

V.    Afterwards    46 

VI.     The  Case  Against  Anne 55 

VII.     Oliver  Morley 65 

VIII.     The  Irony  of  Fate 74 

IX.    A   Strange  Discovery •  •    84 

X.    On  a  Fresh  Trail 96 

XI.    Princess    Kar.vcsay 106 

XII.     Mrs.    Parry's   Tea 118 

XIII.  Mrs.    Benker   Reappears 129 

XIV.  Treasure    Trove 139 

XV.    An  Awkward  Interview 148 

XVI.    The  Unexpected  Happens 159 

XVII.     Part  of  the  Truth 169 

XVIII.     What  Happened  Next 180 

XIX.     The  Clue  Leads  to  London 1 90 

XX.     Many  a  Slip  'Twixt  Cup  and  Lip 201 

XXI.    A  Story  of  the  Past 212 

XXII.    Olga's    Evidence 223 

XXIII.  Mark    Dane 233 

XXIV.  A  Rat  in  a  Corner 245 

XXV.     A   Catastrophe 259 

XXVI.    The  End  of  the  Trout^le 272 


2136011 


A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE 

TWO  old  ladies  sat  in  the  comer  of  the  drawing-room. 
The  younger — a  colonial  cousin  of  the  elder — was 
listening  eagerly  to  gossip  which  dealt  with  English  so- 
ciety in  general,  and  Rickwell  society  in  particular.  They 
presumably  assisted  in  the  entertainment  of  the  children 
already  gathered  tumultuously  round  the  Christmas  tree, 
provided  by  Mr.  Morley;  but  Mrs.  Parry's  budget  of 
scandal  was  too  interesting  to  permit  the  relaxing  of  Mrs. 
McKail's  attention. 

"Ah  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Parry,  a  hatchet-faced  dame  with  a 
venomous  tongue  and  a  retentive  memory,  "Morley's  fond 
of  children,  although  he  has  none  of  his  own." 

"But  those  three  pretty  little  girls?"  said  Mrs.  McKail, 
who  was  fat,  fair,  and  considerably  over  forty. 

"Triplets,"  replied  the  other,  sinking  her  voice.  "The 
only  ease  of  triplets  I  have  met  with,  but  not  his  children. 
No,  Mrs.  Morley  was  a  widow  with  triplets  and  money. 
Morley  married  her  for  the  last,  and  had  to  take  the  first 
as  part  of  the  bargain.  I  don't  deny  but  what  he  does  his 
duty  by  the  three." 


8  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

Mrs.  McKail's  keen  grey  eyes  wander  to  the  fat,  rosy 
little  man  who  laughingly  struggled  amidst  a  bevy  of 
children,  the  triplets  included.  "He  seems  fond  of  them," 
said  she,  nodding. 

"Seems!"  emphasised  j\Irs.  Parry  shrewdly.  "Ha!  I 
don't  trust  the  man.  If  he  were  all  he  seems,  would  his 
wife's  face  wear  that  expression?    No,  don't  tell  me.'* 

Mrs.  Morley  was  a  tall,  lean,  serious  woman,  dressed 
in  sober  grey.  She  certainly  looked  careworn,  and  ap- 
peared to  participate  in  the  festivities  more  as  a  duty  than 
for  the  sake  of  amusement.  "He  is  said  to  be  a  good  hus- 
band," observed  Mrs.  McKail  doubtfully.  "Are  you 
sure?" 

"I'm  sure  of  nothing  where  men  are  concerned.  I 
wouldn't  trust  one  of  them.  Morley  is  attentive  enough 
to  his  wife,  and  he  adores  the  triplets — so  he  says ;  but  I 
go  by  his  eye.  Orgy  is  written  in  that  eye.  It  can  pick 
out  a  pretty  woman,  my  dear.  Oh,  his  wife  doesn't  look 
sick  with  anxiety  for  nothing !" 

"At  any  rate,  he  doesn't  seem  attentive  to  that  pretty 
girl  over  there — the  one  in  black  with  the  young  man." 

"Girl !  She's  twenty-five  if  she's  an  hour.  I  believe  she 
paints  and  puts  belladonna  in  her  eyes.  I  wouldn't  have 
her  for  my  governess.  No,  she's  too  artful,  though  I  can't 
agree  with  you  about  her  prettiness." 

"Is  she  the  governess  ?" 

Mrs.  Parry  nodded,  and  the  ribbons  on  her  cap  curled 
like  Medusa's  snakes.  "For  six  months  Mrs.  Morley  has 
put  up  with  her.  She  teaches  the  Tricolor  goodness 
knows  what." 

"The  Tricolor?" 

"So  we  call  the  triplets.  Don't  you  see  one  is  dressed  in 
red,  another  in  white,  and  the  third  in  blue?  Morley 's 
idea,  I  believe.    As  though  a  man  had  any  right  to  interest 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE  9 

himself  in  such  things.  We  call  them  collectively  the  Tri- 
color, and  Anne  Denham  is  the  governess.  Pretty?  No. 
Artful  ?    Yes.    See  how  she  is  trying  to  fascinate  Ware !" 

"That  handsome  young  man  with  the  fair  moustache 
and " 

"The  same,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Parry,  too  eager  to  black- 
en character  to  give  her  friend  a  chance  of  concluding  her 
sentence.  "Giles  Ware,  of  Kingshart — the  head  of  one  of 
our  oldest  Essex  families.  He  came  into  the  estates  two 
years  ago,  and  has  settled  down  into  a  country  squire 
after  a  wild  life.  But  the  old  Adam  is  in  him,  my  dear. 
Look  at  his  smile — and  she  doesn't  seem  to  mind.  Brazen 
creature !"    And  Mrs.  Parry  shuddered  virtuously. 

The  other  lady  thought  that  Ware  had  a  most  fascinat- 
ing smile,  and  was  a  remarkably  handsome  young  man 
of  the  fair  Saxon  type.  He  certainly  appeared  to  be  much 
interested  in  the  conversation  of  Miss  Denham.  But  what 
young  man  could  resist  so  beautiful  a  woman?  For  in 
spite  of  Mrs.  Parry's  disparagement  Anne  was  a  splendid- 
ly handsome  brunette — "with  a  temper,"  added  Mrs.  Mc- 
Kail  mentally,  as  she  eyed  the  well-suited  couple. 

Mrs.  Parry's  tongue  still  raged  like  a  prairie  fire.  "And 
she  know's  he's  engaged,"  she  snorted.  "Look  at  poor 
Daisy  Kent  out  in  the  cold,  while  that  woman  monopolizes 
Ware!    Ugh!" 

"Is  Miss  Kent  engaged  to  Mr.  Ware?" 

"For  three  years  they  have  been  engaged — a  family  ar- 
rangement, I  understand.  The  late  Kent  and  the  late 
Ware,"  explained  Mrs.  Parry,  who  always  spoke  thus  po- 
litely of  men,  "were  the  greatest  of  friends,  which  I  can 
well  understand,  as  each  was  an  idiot.  However,  Ware 
died  first  and  left  his  estate  to  Giles.  A  few  months  later 
Kent  died  and  made  Morley  the  guardian  of  his  daughter 
Daisy,  already  contracted  to  be  married  to  Giles." 


lo  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Does  he  love  her?" 

"Oh,  he's  fond  of  her  in  a  way,  and  he  is  anxious  to 
obey  the  last  wish  of  his  father.  But  it  seems  to  me  that 
he  is  more  in  love  with  that  black  cat." 

"Hush !    You  will  be  heard." 

Mrs.  Parry  snorted.  "I  hope  so,  and  by  the  cat  herself," 
she  said  grimly.  "I  can't  bear  the  woman.  If  I  were 
Mrs.  Morley  I'd  have  her  out  of  the  house  in  ten  minutes. 
Turn  her  out  in  the  snow  to  cool  her  hot  blood.  What 
right  has  she  to  attract  Ware  and  make  him  neglect  that 
dear  angel  over  there?  See,  yonder  is  Daisy.  There's  a 
face,  there's  charm,  there's  hair!"  finished  Mrs.  Parry, 
quite  unconscious  that  she  was  using  the  latest  London 
slang.    "I  call  her  a  lovely  creature." 

Mrs.  McKail  did  not  agree  with  her  venomous  cousin. 
Daisy  was  a  washed-out  blonde  with  large  blue  eyes  and 
a  slack  mouth.  Under  a  hot  July  sky  and  with  a  flush  of 
color  she  would  have  indeed  been  pretty ;  but  the  cold  of 
winter  and  the  neglect  of  Giles  Ware  shrivelled  her  up. 
In  spite  of  the  warmth  of  the  room,  the  gaiety  of  the 
scene,  she  looked  pinched  and  older  than  her  years.  But 
there  was  some  sort  of  character  in  her  face,  for  Mrs. 
McKail  caught  her  directing  a  glance  full  of  hatred  at  the 
governess.  In  spite  of  her  ethereal  prettiness,  Daisy  Kent 
was  a  good  hater.  Mrs.  McKail  felt  sure  of  that.  "And 
she  is  much  more  of  the  cat  type  than  the  other  one  is," 
thought  the  observant  lady,  too  wise  to  speak  openly. 

However,  Airs.  Parry  still  continued  to  destroy  a  char- 
acter every  time  she  opened  her  mouth.  She  called  the 
rector  a  Papist ;  hinted  that  the  doctor's  wife  was  no 
better  than  she  should  be ;  announced  that  iMorley  owed 
money  to  his  tradesmen,  that  he  had  squandered  his  wife's 
fortune :   and  finally  wound  up  by  saying  that  he  would 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE.  ii 

spend  Daisy  Kent's  money  when  he  got  it.  "If  it  ever 
does  come  to  her,"  finished  this  amiable  person. 

"Did  her  father  leave  her  money  ?"  asked  I\Irs.  McKail. 

"He !"  snapped  the  other ;  "my  dear,  he  was  as  poor  as 
a  church  mouse,  and  left  Daisy  only  a  hundred  a  year  to 
live  on.  That  is  the  one  decent  thing  about  Morley.  He 
did  take  Daisy  in,  and  he  does  treat  her  well,  though  to 
be  sure  she  is  a  pretty  girl,  and,  as  I  say,  he  has  an  eye." 

"Then  where  does  the  fortune  come  from?" 

"Kent  was  a  half-brother  who  went  out  to  America, 
and  it  is  rumored  that  he  made  a  fortune,  which  he  in- 
tends to  leave  to  his  niece — that's  Daisy.  But  I  don't 
know  all  the  details  of  this,"  added  Mrs.  Parry,  rubbing 
her  beaky  nose  angrily ;  "I  must  find  out  somehow.  But 
here,  my  dear,  those  children  are  stripping  the  tree.  Let 
us  assist.  We  must  give  pleasure  to  the  little  ones.  I 
have  had  six  of  my  own,  all  married,"  ended  the  good 
lady  irrelevantly. 

She  might  have  added  that  her  four  sons  and  two 
daughters  kept  at  a  safe  distance  from  their  respected 
parent.  On  occasions  she  did  pay  a  visit  to  one  or  the 
other,  and  usually  created  a  disturbance.  Yet  this  spite- 
ful, mischief-making  woman  read  her  Bible,  thought  her- 
self a  Christian,  and  judged  others  as  harshly  as  she 
judged  herself  leniently.  Mrs.  McKail  was  stopping  with 
her,  therefore  could  not  tell  her  what  she  thought  of  her 
behavior;  but  she  privately  determined  to  cut  short  her 
visit  and  get  away  from  this  disagreeable  old  creature. 
In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Parry,  smiling  like  the  wicked  fairy 
godmother  with  many  teeth,  advanced  to  meddle  with  the 
Christmas  tree  and  set  the  children  by  the  ears.  She  was 
a  perfect  Ate. 

Giles  said  as  much  to  Miss  Denham,  and  she  nervously 
agreed  with  him  as  though  fearful  lest  her  assent  should 


12  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  \'II. 

reach  the  ears  of  Mrs.  Parry.  "She  has  no  love  for  me," 
whispered  Anne.  "I  think  you  had  better  talk  to  Daisy, 
Mr.  Ware." 

"I  prefer  to  talk  to  you,"  said  Giles  coolly.  "Daisy  is 
like  her  name — a  sweet  little  English  meadow  flower — and 
I  love  her  very  dearly.  But  she  has  never  been  out  of 
England,  and  sometimes  we  are  at  a  loss  what  to  talk 
about.    Now  you  ?" 

"I  am  a  gipsy,"  interrupted  Anne,  lest  he  should  say 
something  too  complimentary ;  "a  she-Ulysses,  who  has 
travelled  far  and  wide.  In  spite  of  your  preference  for 
my  conversation,  I  wish  I  were  Daisy." 

"Do  you?"  asked  Ware  eagerly?    "Why?" 

Anne  flushed  and  threw  back  her  head  proudly.  She 
could  not  altogether  misunderstand  his  meaning  or  the 
expression  of  his  eyes,  but  she  strove  to  turn  the  conversa- 
tion with  a  laugh.  "You  ask  too  many  questions,  Mr. 
Ware,"  she  said  coldly.  "I  think  Daisy  is  one  of  the 
sweetest  of  girls,  and  I  envy  her.    To  have  a  happy  home, 

a  kind  guardian  as  Mr.  Morley  is,  and  a "     She  was 

about  to  mention  Giles,  but  prudently  suppressed  the  re- 
mark. 

"Go  on,"  he  said  quietly,  folding  his  arms. 

She  shook  her  head  and  bit  her  lip.  "You  keep  me 
from  my  work,  I  must  attend  to  my  duties.  A  poor  gov- 
erness, you  know."  With  a  laugh  she  joined  the  band  of 
children,  who  were  besieging  Morley. 

Giles  remained  where  he  was,  his  eyes  fixed  moodily 
on  the  ground.  For  more  than  five  months  he  had  fought 
against  an  ever-growing  passion  for  the  governess.  He 
knew  that  he  was  in  honor  bound  to  marry  Daisy,  and 
that  she  loved  him  dearly,  yet  his  heart  was  with  Anne 
Denham.  Her  beauty,  her  brilliant  conversation,  her 
charm  of  manner,  all  appealed  to  him  strongly.     And  he 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE  13 

had  a  shrewd  suspicion  that  she  was  not  altogether  indif- 
ferent to  him,  although  she  loyally  strove  to  hide  her  true 
feelings.  Whenever  he  became  tender,  she  ruthlessly 
laughed  at  him :  she  talked  constantly  of  Daisy  and  of  her 
many  charms,  and  on  every  occasion  strove  to  throw  her 
into  the  company  of  Giles.  She  managed  to  do  so  on 
this  occasion,  for  Giles  heard  a  rather  pettish  voice  at  his 
elbow,  and  looked  down  to  behold  a  flushed  face.  Daisy 
was  angry,  and  looked  the  prettier  for  her  anger. 

"You  have  scarcely  spoken  to  me  all  night,"  she  said, 
taking  his  arm ;  "I  do  think  you  are  unkind." 

"My  dear,  you  have  been  so  busy  with  the  children. 
And,  indeed,"  he  added,  with  a  grave  smile,  "you  are 
^arcely  more  than  a  child  yourself,  Daisy." 

"I  am  woman  enough  to  feel  neglect." 

"I  apologize — on  my  knees,  dearest." 

"Oh,  it's  easy  saying  so,"  pouted  Daisy,  "but  you  know 
Anne " 

"What  about  Miss  Denham?"  asked  Giles,  outwardly 
calm. 

"You  like  her." 

"She  is  a  very  charming  woman,  but  you  are  to  be  my 
wife.  Jealous  little  girl,  can  I  not  be  ordinarily  civil  to 
Miss  Denham  without  you  getting  angry?" 

"You  need  not  be  so  very  civil." 

"I  won't  speak  to  her  at  all  if  you  like,"  repHed  Ware, 
with  a  fine  assumption  of  carelessness. 

"Oh,  if  you  only  wouldn't,"  Daisy  stopped — then  con- 
tinued passionately,  "I  wish  she  would  go  away.  I  don't 
like  her." 

"She  is  fond  of  you,  Daisy." 

"Yes.  And  a  cat  is  fond  of  a  mouse.  Mrs.  Parry 
says ^" 


"Don't  quote  that  odious  woman,  child,"  interrupted 
Ware  sharply.    "She  has  a  bad  word  for  everyone." 


14  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Well,  she  doesn't  like  Anne." 

"Does  she  like  anyone?"  asked  Giles  coolly.  "Come, 
Daisy,  don't  wrinkle  your  face,  and  I'll  take  you  out  for  a 
drive  in  my  motor-car  in  a  few  days." 

"To-morrow !  to-morrow !"  cried  Daisy,  her  face 
wreathed  in  smiles. 

"No.  I  daren't  do  that  on  Christmas  Day.  What  would 
the  rector  say  ?  As  the  lord  of  the  manor  I  mus^  set  an 
example.     On  Boxing  Day  if  you  like." 

"We  will  go  alone?" 

"Certainly.  Who  do  you  expect  me  to  ask  other  than 
you?" 

"Anne,"  said  Daisy  spitefully,  and  before  he  could  re- 
ply she  also  moved  away  to  join  the  children.  Giles 
winced.  He  felt  that  he  was  in  the  wrong  and  had  given 
his  little  sweetheart  some  occasion  for  jealousy.  He  re- 
solved to  mend  his  ways  and  shun  the  too  fascinating  so- 
ciety of  the  enchantress.  Shaking  off  his  moody  feeling, 
he  came  forward  to  assist  Morley.  The  host  was  a  little 
man,  and  could  not  reach  the  gifts  that  hung  on  the  top- 
most boughs  of  the  tree.  Giles  being  tall  and  having  a 
long  reach  of  arm,  came  to  his  aid. 

"That's  right,  that's  right,"  gasped  Morley,  his  round 
face  red  and  shining  with  his  exertions,  "the  best  gifts 
are  up  here." 

"As  the  best  gifts  of  man  are  from  heaven,"  put  in 
Mrs.  Parry,  with  her  usual  tact. 

Morley  laughed.  "Quite  so,  quite  so,"  he  said,  careful 
as  was  everyone  else  not  to  offend  the  lady,  "but  on  this 
occasion  we  can  obtain  the  best  gifts.  I  and  Ware  and 
Mrs.  Morley  have  contributed  to  the  tree.  The  children 
have  their  presents,  now  for  the  presents  of  the  grown- 
ups." 

By  this  time  the  children  were  gorged  with  food  and 


THE  CHRISTMAS  TREE  15 

distracted  by  many  presents.  They  were  seated  every- 
where, many  on  the  floor,  and  the  room  was  a  chaos  of 
dolls,  trumpets,  toy-horses,  and  drums.  The  chatter  of 
the  children  and  the  noise  of  the  instruments  was  fearful. 
But  Morley  seemed  to  enjoy  the  riot,  and  even  his  wife's 
grave  face  relaxed  when  she  saw  her  three  precious  jew- 
els rosy  with  pleasure.  She  drew  Anne's  attention  to 
them,  and  the  governess  smiled  sympathetically.  Miss 
Denham  was  popular  with  everyone  save  Daisy  in  that 
happy  home. 

Meantime  Giles  handed  down  the  presents.  Mrs.  Mor- 
ley received  a  chain  purse  from  her  affectionate  husband ; 
Mrs.  Parry  a  silver  cream- jug,  which  she  immediately 
priced  as  cheap;  Mrs.  McKail  laughed  delightedly  over 
a  cigarette-case,  which  she  admitted  revealed  her  favorite 
vice ;  and  the  rector  was  made  happy  with  a  motor-bicycle. 

"It  has  been  taken  to  your  house  this  evening,"  ex- 
plained Morley.  "We  couldn't  put  that  on  the  tree.  Ha! 
ha!"  , 

"A  muff-chain  for  Daisy,"  said  Giles,  presenting  her, 
with  the  packet,  "and  I  hope  you  will  like  it,  dear." 

"Did  you  buy  it  ?"  she  asked,  sparkling  and  palpitating. 

"Of  course.  I  bought  presents  both  for  you  and  Miss 
Denham.  Here  is  yours,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  gov- 
erness, who  grew  rosy,  "a  very  simple  bangle.  I  wish  it 
were  more  worthy  of  your  acceptance,"  and  he  handed  it 
with  a  bow. 

Daisy,  her  heart  filled  with  jealousy,  glided  away. 
Giles  saw  her  face,  guessed  her  feeling,  and  followed.  In 
a  corner  he  caught  her,  and  placed  something  on  her  fin- 
ger. "Our  engagement  ring,"  he  whispered,  and  Daisy 
once  more  smiled.  Her  lover  smiled  also.  But  his  heart 
was  heavy. 


CHAPTER  n 

AN  ANONYMOUS  LETTER 

AFTER  the  riot  of  the  evening  came  the  silence  of  the 
night.  The  children  departed  amidst  the  stormy 
laughter  of  Morley,  and  it  was  Anne's  task  to  see  that 
the  triplets  were  put  comfortably  to  bed.  She  sat  in  the 
nursery,  and  watched  the  washing  and  undressing  and 
hair-curling,  and  listened  to  their  joyous  chatter  about  the 
wonderful  presents  and  the  wonderful  pleasures  of  that 
day.  Afterwards,  when  they  were  safely  tucked  away, 
she  went  down  to  supper  and  received  the  compliments  of 
Morley  on  her  capability  in  entertaining  children.  Mrs. 
Morley  also,  and  in  a  more  genuine  way,  added  her  quota 
of  praise. 

"You  are  my  right  hand.  Miss  Denham,"  she  said,  with 
a  smile  in  her  weary  blue  eyes.  "I  don't  know  what  I 
shall  do  without  you." 

"Oh,  Miss  Denham  is  not  going,"  said  the  master  of  the 
house. 

"Who  knows?"  smiled  Anne.  "I  have  always  been  a 
wanderer,  and  it  may  be  that  I  shall  be  called  away  sud- 
denly." 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  Morley 's  tongue  to  ask  by  whom, 
but  the  hardening  of  Anne's  face  and  the  flash  of  her  dark 
eyes  made  him  change  his  mind.  All  the  same  he  con- 
cluded that  there  was  someone  by  whom  she  might  be 
summoned  and  guessed  also  that  the  obeying  of  the  call 


AN  ANONYMOUS  LETTER  17 

would  come  as  an  unwilling  duty.  Mrs.  Morley  saw  no- 
thing of  this.  She  had  not  much  brain  power,  and  what 
she  had  was  devoted  to  considerations  dealing  with  the 
passing  hour.  At  the  present  moment  she  could  only  think 
that  it  was  time  for  supper,  and  that  all  present  were  hun- 
gry and  tired. 

Hungry  Anne  certainly  was  not,  but  she  confessed  to 
feeling  weary.  Making  some  excuse  she  retired  to  her 
room,  but  not  to  sleep.  When  the  door  was  locked  she 
put  on  her  dressing-gown,  shook  down  her  long  black 
hair,  and  sat  by  the  fire. 

Her  thoughts  were  not  pleasant.  Filled  with  shame  at 
the  knowledge  of  his  treachery  towards  the  woman  he 
was  engaged  to  marry,  Giles  had  kept  close  to  Daisy's  side 
during  supper  and  afterwards.  He  strove  to  interest  him- 
self in  her  somewhat  childish  chatter,  and  made  her  so 
happy  by  his  mere  presence  that  her  face  was  shining  with 
smiles.  Transfigured  by  love  and  by  gratified  vanity, 
Daisy  looked  really  pretty,  and  in  her  heart  was  scornful 
of  poor  Anne  thus  left  out  in  the  cold.  She  concluded  that 
Giles  loved  her  best  after  all,  and  did  not  see  how  he 
every  now  and  then  stealthily  glanced  at  the  governess 
wearily  striving  to  interest  herself  in  the  breezy  conversa- 
tion of  Morley  or  the  domestic  chatter  of  his  wife.  In 
her  heart  Anne  had  felt  a  pang  at  this  desertion,  although 
she  knew  that  it  was  perfectly  justifiable,  and  unable  to 
bear  the  sight  of  Daisy's  brilliant  face,  she  retired  thus 
early. 

She  loved  Giles.  It  was  no  use  blinking  the  fact.  She 
loved  him  with  every  fibre  of  her  nature,  and  with  a  pas- 
*sion  far  stronger  than  could  be  felt  for  him  by  the  golden- 
haired  doll  with  the  shallow  eyes.  For  Giles  she  would 
have  lost  the  world,  but  she  would  not  have  him  lose  his 
for  her.    And,  after  all,  she  had  no  right  to  creep  like  a 


i8  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

serpent  into  the  Eden  of  silly,  prattling  Daisy.     In  her 

own  puny  way  the  child — for  she  was  little  else — adored 
Giles,  and  as  he  was  her  affianced  lover  it  would  be  base 
to  come  between  her  and  her  god.  But  Anne  knew  in 
her  heart  that  Giles  loved  her  best.  If  she  did  but  lift 
her  hand  he  would  leave  all  and  follow  her  to  the  world's 
end.  But  lift  her  hand  she  would  not.  It  would  be  too 
cruel  to  break  the  butterfly  Daisy  on  such  a  painful  wheel. 
Anne  loved  sufficiently  to  be  large  and  generous  in  her 
nature,  and  therefore  broke  her  own  heart  to  spare  the 
breaking  of  another  woman's.  Certainlv  Giles  was  as  un- 
happy as  she  was ;  that  was  patent  in  his  looks  and  bear- 
ing. But  he  had  forged  his  own  chains,  and  could  not 
break  them  without  dishonor.  And  come  what  may, 
Giles  would  ahvays  love  her  best. 

Anne's  meditations  were  disturbed  by  a  knock  at  the 
door.  Glancing  at  the  clock,  she  saw  it  was  close  on  mid- 
night, and  wondering  who  wished  to  see  her  at  so  late 
an  hour,  she  opened  the  door.  Daisy,  in  a  blue  dressing- 
gown,  with  her  golden  hair  loose  and  her  face  flushed, 
entered  the  room.  She  skipped  towards  Anne  with  a 
happy  laugh,  and  threw  her  arms  round  her  neck. 

"I  could  not  sleep  without  telling  you  how  happy  I  am," 
she  said,  and  with  a  look  of  triumph  displayed  the  ring. 

Anne's  heart  beat  violently  at  this  visible  sign  of  the 
barrier  between  her  and  Giles.  However,  she  was  too 
clever  a  woman  to  betray  her  emotion,  and  examined  the 
ring  with  a  forced  smile. 

"Diamonds  for  your  eyes,  rubies  for  your  lips,"  she 
said  softly.     "A  very  pretty  fancy." 

Daisy  was  annoyed.  She  would  rather  that  Anne  had 
betrayed  herself  by  some  rude  speech,  or  at  least  by  a  dis- 
composed manner.  To  make  her  heart  ache  Daisy  had 
come,  and  from  all  she  could  see  she  had  not  accomplished 


AN  ANONYMOUS  LETTER  19 

her  aim.  However,  she  still  tried  to  wring  some  sign  of 
emotion  from  the  expression  or  lips  of  the  calm  governess. 

"Giles  promised  me  a  ring  over  and  over  again,"  she 
said,  her  eyes  fixed  on  Anne.  "We  have  been  engaged 
for  over  six  months.  He  asked  me  just  before  you  came, 
although  it  was  always  an  understood  thing.  His  father 
and  mine  arranged  the  engagement,  you  know.  I  didn't 
like  the  idea  at  first,  as  I  wanted  to  make  my  own  choice. 
Every  girl  should,  I  think.     Don't  you  ?" 

"Certainly,"  Anne  forced  herself  to  say,  "but  you  love 
Mr.  Ware." 

Daisy  nodded.  "Very,  very  much,"  she  assented  em- 
phatically. "I  must  have  loved  him  without  knowing  it, 
but  I  was  only  certain  when  he  asked  me  to  marry  him. 
How  lucky  it  is  he  has  to  make  me  his  wife !"  she  sighed. 

"If  he  were  not  bound "     Here  she  stopped  suddenly, 

and  looked  into  the  other  woman's  eyes. 

"What  nonsense!"  said  Anne  good-humoredly,  and 
more  composed  than  ever.  "Mr.  Ware  loves  you  dearly. 
You  are  the  one  woman  he  would  choose  for  his  wife. 
There  is  no  compulsion  about  his  choice,  my  dear." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  demanded  the  girl  fever- 
ishly.    "I  thought — it  was  the  ring,  you  know." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Daisy?" 

"He  never  would  give  me  the  ring,  although  I  said  it 
was  ridiculous  for  a  girl  to  be  engaged  without  one.     He 

always  made  some  excuse,  and  only  to-night But  I 

;  have  him  safe  now,"  she  added,  with  a  fierce  abruptness, 
'  "and  I'll  keep  him." 

"Nobody  wants  to  take  him  from  you,  dear." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  said  Miss  Kent  again.  "Then 
why  did  he  delay  giving  me  the  ring?" 

Anne  knew  well  enough.  After  her  first  three  meet- 
ings with  Giles  she  had  seen  the  love  light  in  his  eyes,  and 


20  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

his  reluctance  to  bind  himself  irrevocably  with  the  ling 
was  due  to  a  hope  that  something  might  happen  to  per- 
mit his  choosing  for  himself.  But  nothing  had  hap- 
pened, the  age  of  miracles  being  past,  and  the  vow  to 
his  dead  father  bound  him.  Therefore  on  this  very  night 
he  had  locked  his  shackles  and  had  thrown  away  the  key. 
Anne  had  made  it  plain  to  him  that  she  could  not,  nor 
would  she,  help  him  to  play  a  dishonorable  part.  He 
had  accepted  his  destiny,  and  nov;  Daisy  asked  why  he 
had  not  accepted  it  before.  Anne  made  a  feeble  excuse, 
the  best  she  could  think  of. 

"Perhaps  he  did  not  see  a  ring  pretty  enough,"  she 
said. 

"It  might  be  that,"  replied  Daisy  reflectively.  "Giles 
has  such  good  taste.  You  did  not  show  me  what  he  gave 
you  to-night." 

Miss  Denham  would  rather  not  have  shown  it,  but  she 
had  no  excuse  to  refuse  a  sight  of  the  gift.  Without  a 
word  she  slipped  the  bangle  from  her  wrist — Daisy's  jeal- 
ous eyes  noted  that  she  had  kept  it  on  till  now — and  hand- 
ed it  to  the  girl. 

"Oh,  how  sweet  and  pretty !"  she  cried,  with  artificial 
cordiality.  "Just  a  ring  of  gold  with  a  coin  attached. 
May  I  look?"  And  without  waiting  for  permission  she 
ran  to  the  lamp. 

The  coin  was  a  half-sovereign  of  Edward  VII.,  with 
three  stones — a  diamond,  an  amethyst,  and  a  pearl — set 
in  a  triangle.  A  thin  ring  of  gold  attached  it  to  the 
bangle.  Daisy  was  not  ill  pleased  that  the  gfift  was  so 
simple.     Her  engagement  ring  was  much  more  costly. 

"It's  a  cheap  thing,"  she  said  contemptuously.  "The 
coin  is  quite  common." 

"It  will  be  rare  some  day,"  said  Anne,  slipping  the 
bangle  on  her  wrist.     "The  name  of  the  King  is  spelt  on 


AN  ANONYMOUS  LETTER  21- 

this  one  'Edwardus,'  whereas  in  the  Latin  it  should  be 
'Edvardus.'  I  beHeve  the  issue  is  to  be  called  in.  Conse- 
quently coins  of  this  sort  will  be  rare  some  day.  It  was 
kind  of  Mr.  Ware  to  give  it  to  me." 

Daisy  paid  no  attention  to  this  explanation.  "An  ame- 
thyst, a  diamond,  and  a  pearl,"  she  said.  "Why  did  he 
have  those  three  stones  set  in  the  half-sovereign  ?" 

Anne  turned  away  her  face,  for  it  was  burning  red. 
She  knew  very  well  what  the  stones  signified,  but  she 
was  not  going  to  tell  this  jealous  creature.  Daisy's  wits, 
however,  were  made  keen  by  her  secret  anger,  and  after 
a  few  moments  of  thought  she  jumped  up,  clapping  her 
hands. 

"I  see  it — the  initials  of  your  name.  Amethyst  stands 
for  Anne  and  Diamond  for  Denham." 

"It  might  be  so,"  replied  Miss  Denham  coldly. 

"It  is  so,"  said  Daisy,  her  small  face  growing  white 
and  pinched.  "But  what  does  the  pearl  mean  ?  Ah,  that 
you  are  a  pearl!" 

"Nonsense,  Daisy.  Go  you  to  bed,  and  don't  imagine 
things." 

"It  is  not  imagination,"  cried  the  girl  shrilly,  "and  you 
know  that  well,  Anne.  What  right  have  you  to  come  and 
steal  Giles  from  me  ?" 

"He  is  yours,"  said  Anne  sharply.     "The  ring " 

"Oh,  yes,  the  ring.  I  have  his  promise  to  marry  me, 
but  you  have  his  heart.  Don't  I  know.  Give  me  that 
bangle."  And  she  stretched  out  her  hand  with  a  clutch- 
ing gesture. 

"No,"  said  Anne  sternly,  "I  shall  keep  my  present.  Go 
to  bed.  You  are  overtired.  To-morrow  you  will  be 
wiser." 

"I  am  wise  now — too  wise.  You  have  made  Giles  love 
you." 


22  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"I  have  not;  I  swear  I  have  not,"  said  Anne,  beginning 
to  lose  her  composure. 

"You  have,  and  you  love  him;  I  see  it  in  your  face. 
•Who  are  you  to  come  into  my  life  and  spoil  it  ?" 

"I  am  a  governess.     That  is  all  you  need  to  know." 

"You  look  like  a  governess,"  said  Daisy,  insultingly. 
"I  believe  you  are  a  bad  woman,  and  came  here  to  steal 
Giles  from  me." 

"Daisy!" — Anne  rose  to  her  feet  and  walked  towards 
the  door — "I  have  had  quite  enough  of  your  hysterical 
nonsense.  If  you  came  here  to  insult  me  in  this  way.  it  is 
time  you  went.  Mr.  Ware  and  I  were  complete  stran- 
gers to  one  another  when  I  came  here." 

"Strangers!     And  what  are  you  now?" 

"Friends — nothing  more,  nothing  less." 

"So  you  say;  and  I  daresay  Giles  would  say  the  same 
thing  did  I  ask  him." 

Anne's  face  grew  white  and  set.  She  seized  the  fool- 
ish, hysterical  little  creature  by  the  wrist  and  shook  her. 
"I'll  tell  you  one  thing,"  she  said  softly,  and  her  threat  was 
the  more  terrible  for  the  softness,  "I  have  black  blood  in 
my  veins,  for  I  was  bom  at  Martinique,  and  if  you  talk 
to  Giles  about  me,  I'll — I'll — kill  you.  Go  and  pray  to 
God  that  you  may  be  rid  of  this  foolishness." 

Daisy,  wide-eyed,  pallid,  and  thoroughly  frightened, 
fled  whimpering,  and  sought  refuge  in  her  own  room. 
Anne  closed  the  door,  and  locked  it  so  as  to  prevent  a 
repetition  of  this  unpleasant  visit.  Then  she  went  to  open 
the  window,  for  the  air  of  the  room  seemed  tainted  by  the 
presence  of  Daisy.  Flinging  wide  the  casement,  Anne 
leaned  out  into  the  bitter  air  and  looked  at  the  wonderful 
white  snow-world  glittering  in  the  thin,  chill  moonlight. 
She  drew  several  long  breaths,  and  became  more  com- 
posed.    Sufficient,  indeed,  to  wonder  why  she  had  be- 


AN  ANONYMOUS  LETTER  23 

haved  in  so  melodramatic  a  fashion.  It  was  not  her  custom 
to  so  far  break  through  the  conventions  of  civiUzation. 
But  the  insults  of  Daisy  had  stirred  in  her  that  wild  negro 
blood  to  which  she  had  referred.  That  this  girl  who  had 
all  should  grudge  her  the  simple  Christmas  present  made 
Anne  furious.  Yet  in  spite  of  her  righteous  anger  she 
could  not  help  feeling  sorry  for  Daisy.  And,  after  all, 
the  girl's  jealousy  had  some  foundation  in  truth.  Anne 
had  given  her  no  cause,  but  she  could  not  deny  that  she 
loved  Giles  and  that  he  loved  her.  To  end  an  impossible 
situation  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  flight. 

Next  day  Anne  quite  determined  to  give  Mrs.  Morley 
notice,  but  when  she  found  that  Daisy  said  nothing  about 
her  visit,  she  decided  to  remain  silent.  Unless  the  girl 
made  herself  impossible,  Anne  did  not  see  why  she  should 
turn  out  of  a  good  situation  where  she  was  earning  ex- 
cellent wages.  Daisy  avoided  her,  and  was  coldly  polite 
on  such  occasions  as  they  had  to  speak.  Seeing  this, 
Anne  forbore  to  force  her  company  upon  the  unhappy 
girl  and  attended  to  her  duties. 

These  were  sufficiently  pleasant,  for  the  three  children 
adored  her.  They  were  not  clever,  but  extremely  pretty 
and  gentle  in  their  manners.  Mrs.  Morley  often  came 
to  sit  and  sew  in  the  schoolroom  while  Anne  taught.  She 
was  fond  of  the  quiet,  calm  governess,  and  prattled  to 
her  just  as  though  she  were  a  child  herself  of  the  per- 
fections of  Mr.  Morley  and  her  unhappy  early  life.  For 
the  sake  of  the  children  she  forbore  to  mention  the  name 
of  their  father,  who  from  her  account  had  been  a  sad 
rascal. 

Giles  came  sometimes  to  dine,  but  attended  chiefly  to 
Daisy.  Anne  was  content  that  this  should  be  so,  and  her 
rival  made  the  most  of  the  small  triumph.  Indeed,  so 
attentive  was  Giles  that  Daisy  came  to  believe  she  had 


24  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

been  wrong  in  suspecting  he  loved  the  governess.  She 
made  no  further  reference  to  Anne,  but  when  Miss  Den- 
ham  was  present  narrowly  watched  her  attitude  and  that 
of  Ware.  Needless  to  say  she  saw  nothing  to  awaken 
her  suspicions,  for  both  Giles  and  Anne  were  most  careful 
to  hide  their  real  feelings.  So  far  the  situation  was  en- 
durable, but  it  could  not  continue  indefinitely.  Anne 
made  up  her  mind  to  leave. 

On  the  day  before  New  Year  she  was  wondering  what 
excuse  she  could  make  to  get  away  when  an  incident  hap- 
pened which  set  her  duty  plainly  before  her  and  did 
away  with  all  necessity  for  an  excuse.  It  occurred  at 
breakfast. 

The  little  man  was  fond  of  his  meals,  and  enjoyed  his 
breakfast  more  than  any  other.  He  had  the  most  won- 
derful arrangement  for  keeping  the  dishes  hot — a  rather 
needless  proceeding,  as  he  was  invariably  punctual.  So 
were  Mrs.  Morley  and  Anne,  for  breakfast  being  at  nine 
o'clock  they  had  no  excuse  for  being  late.  Nevertheless, 
Daisy  rarely  contrived  to  be  in  time,  and  Morley  was  much 
vexed  by  her  persistent  unpunctuality.  On  this  occasion 
she  arrived  late  as  usual,  but  more  cheerful.  She  ever 
greeted  Anne  with  a  certain  amount  of  politeness. 

"There's  a  letter  for  you,"  said  Morley,  "but  if  you  will 
take  my  advice  you  will  leave  it  until  breakfast  is  over. 
I  never  read  mine  until  after  a  meal.  Bad  news  is  so 
apt  to  spoil  one's  appetite." 

"How  do  you  know  the  news  will  be  bad?"  asked 
Daisy. 

"Most  news  is,"  replied  Morley,  with  a  shade  on  his 
usually  merry  face.  "Debts,  duns,  and  difficulties !"  and 
he  looked  ruefully  at  the  pile  of  letters  by  his  plate.  "I 
haven't  examined  my  correspondence  yet." 

Anne  said  nothing,  as  she  was  thinking  of  what  ar- 


AN  ANONYMOUS  LETTER.  25 

rangement  she  could  make  to  get  away.  Suddenly  she 
and  the  others  were  startled  by  a  cry  from  Daisy.  The 
girl  had  opened  the  letter  and  was  staring  at  it  with  a  pale 
face.  Anne  half  rose  from  her  seat,  but  Mrs.  Morley 
anticipated  her,  and  ran  round  to  put  her  hand  on  the 
girl's  shoulder.     "Daisy,  what  is  the  matter?" 

"The — the — letter!"  gasped  Daisy,  with  chattering" 
teeth.  Then  she  cast  a  look  full  of  terror  at  the  aston- 
ished Anne.  "She  will  kill  me,"  cried  the  girl,  and  fell^ 
off  the  chair  in  a  faint. 

Morley  hastily  snatched  up  the  letter.  It  was  unsigned, 
and  apparently  written  in  an  uneducated  hand  on  common 
paper.  He  read  it  out  hurriedly,  while  Anne  and  Mrs. 
Morley  stood  amazed  to  hear  its  contents. 

"  'Honored  Miss,'  "  read  Morley  slowly,  "  'this  is  from 
a  well-wisher  to  say  that  you  must  not  trust  the  gov- 
erness, who  will  kill  you,  because  of  G.  W.  and  the  Scar- 
let Cross.'  " 

Anne  uttered  a  cry  and  sank  back  into  her  chair  white 
as  the  snow  out  of  doors.  "The  Scarlet  Cross,"  she  mur- 
mured, "again  the  Scarlet  Cross." 


CHAPTER  III 


A    MYSTERIOUS   VISITOR 


LATER  in  the  day  Mr.  Morley  called  the  three  women 
into  his  library  to  have  a  discussion  regarding  the 
strange  letter  and  its  stranger  accusation.  Daisy  had 
recovered  from  her  faint,  but  was  still  pale  and  obviously 
afraid  of  Anne.  The  governess  appeared  perfectly  com- 
posed, but  her  white  face  was  as  hard  as  granite.  Both 
Morley  and  his  wife  were  much  disturbed,  as  was  natural, 
especially  as  at  the  moment  Anne  had  refused  any  ex- 
planation. Now  Morley  was  bent  on  forcing  her  to 
speak  out  and  set  Daisy's  mind  at  rest.  The  state  of  the 
girl  was  pitiable. 

The  library  was  a  large  square  apartment,  with  three 
French  windows  opening  on  to  a  terrace,  whence  steps 
led  down  to  a  garden  laid  out  in  the  stiff  Dutch  style. 
The  room  was  sombre  with  oak  and  heavy  red  velvet 
hangings,  but  rendered  more  cheerful  by  books,  photo- 
graphs, and  pictures.  Morley  was  fond  of  reading,  and 
during  his  ten  years'  residence  at  The  Elms  had  accumu- 
lated a  large  number  of  volumes.  Between  the  book- 
cases were  trophies  of  arms,  medicTeval  weapons  and  armor, 
and  barbaric  spears  from  Africa  and  the  South  Seas,  in- 
temiixed  with  bows  and  clubs.     The  floor  was  of  pol- 


A  MYSTERIOUS  VISITOR  27. 

ished  oak,  with  here  and  there  a  brilliantly  colored  Persian 
praying-mat.  The  furniture  was  also  of  oak,  and  cush- 
ioned in  red  Morocco  leather.  Altogether  the  library 
gave  evidence  of  a  refined  taste,  and  was  a  cross  between 
a  monkish  cell  and  a  sybarite's  bower. 

"Well,  Miss  Denham,"  said  Morley,  his  merry  face 
more  than  a  trifle  serious,  "what  have  you  to  say?" 

"There  is  nothing  I  can  say,"  replied  Anne,  with  com- 
posure, "the  letter  has  nothing  to  do  with  me." 

"My  dear,"  put  in  Mrs.  Morley,  much  distressed,  "you 
cannot  take  up  this  attitude.  You  know  I  am  your  friend, 
that  I  have  always  done  my  best  for  you,  and  for  my 
sake,  if  not  for  Daisy's,  you  must  explain." 

"She  won't — she  won't,"  said  Daisy,  with  an  hysterical 
laugh. 

"I  would  if  I  could,"  replied  Anne,  talking  firmly,  "but 
the  accusation  is  ridiculous.  Why  should  I  threaten 
Daisy?" 

"Because  you  love  Giles,"  burst  out  the  girl  furiously. 

"I  do  not  love  Mr.  Ware.     I  said  so  the  other  night." 

"And  you  said  more  than  that.  You  said  that  you 
would  kill  me." 

"Miss  Denham,"  cried  Morley,  greatly  shocked,  "what 
is  this  ?" 

"A  foolish  word  spoken  in  a  foolish  moment,"  said 
Anne,  realizing  that  her  position  was  becoming  danger- 
ous. 

"I  think  so  too,"  said  Mrs.  Morley,  defending  her. 
"It  so  happened.  Miss  Denham,  that  I  overheard  you 
make  the  speech  to  Daisy,  and  I  told  my  husband  about 
it  the  next  morning.  We  decided  to  say  nothing,  think- 
ing— as  you  say  now — that  it  was  simply  a  foolish  speech. 
But  this  letter" — she  hesitated,  then  continued  quickly, 
"you  must  explain  this  letter," 


28  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  \'II. 

Anne  thought  for  a  moment.  "I  can't  explain  it. 
Some  enemy  has  written  it.  You  know  all  about  me, 
Mrs.  Morley.  You  read  my  credentials — you  inquired 
as  to  my  former  situations  at  the  Governess  Institute 
where  you  engaged  me.  I  have  nothing  to  conceal  in 
my  life,  and  certainly  I  have  no  idea  of  harming  Daisy. 
She  came  to  my  room  and  talked  nonsense,  which  made 
me  lose  my  temper.  I  said  a  foolish  thing,  I  admit,  but 
surely  knowing  me  as  you  do  you  will  acquit  me  of  mean- 
ing anything  by  a  few  wild  words  uttered  in  a  hurry  and 
without  thought." 

"Why  did  you  make  use  of  such  an  expression  ?"  asked 
Morley. 

"Because  I  was  carried  out  of  myself.  I  have  a  strain 
of  negro  blood  in  me,  and  at  times  say  more  than  I  mean." 

"And  your  negro  blood  will  make  you  kill  me,"  cried 
Daisy,  with  an  expression  of  terror.  "I  am  doomed — 
doomed !" 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  child,"  said  Morley  roughly. 

"She  is  a  trifle  hysterical,"  explained  Mrs.  Morley, 
comforting  the  girl,  who  was  sobbing  violently. 

"Mr.  Morley,"  said  Anne,  rising,  "I  don't  know  who 
wrote  that  letter,  or  why  it  should  have  been  written.  Mr. 
Ware  and  I  are  friends,  nothing  more.  I  am  not  in  love 
with  him,  nor  is  he  in  love  with  me.  He  has  paid  me  no 
more  attention  than  you  have  yourself." 

"No,  that  is  true  enough,"  replied  Morley,  "and  as 
Giles  is  engaged  to  Daisy  I  don't  think  he  is  the  man  to 
pay  marked  attention  to  another  woman." 

"Ah !  Giles  is  all  right,"  cried  Daisy  angrily,  "but  she 
has  tempted  him." 

"I  deny  that." 

"You  can  deny  what  you  like.  It  is  true,  you  know  it 
is  true." 


A  MYSTERIOUS  VISITOR  29 

"Daisy !  Daisy !"  said  Morley  persuasively,  whereupon 
she  turned  on  him  Hke  a  little  fury. 

"Don't  you  defend  her.  You  hate  me  as  much  as  she 
does.     You  are  a " 

"Stop!"  said  Mrs.  Morley,  very  pale.  "Hold  your 
tongue,  Daisy.  My  husband  has  treated  you  in  the  kind- 
est manner.  When  your  father  died  you  were  left  penni- 
less. He  took  you  in,  and  both  he  and  I  have  treated 
you  like  our  own  child.  Ungrateful  girl,  how  can  you 
speak  so  of  those  who  have  befriended  you  ?" 

"I  do.  I  shall.  You  all  hate  me!"  cried  Daisy  pas- 
sionately. "I  never  wanted  your  help.  Giles  would  have 
married  me  long  ago  but  for  Mr.  Morley.  I  had  no  need 
to  live  on  your  charity.  I  have  a  hundred  a  year  of  my 
own.  You  brought  that  horrid  woman  down  to  steal 
Giles  from  me,  and " 

"Take  her  away,  Elizabeth,"  said  Morley  sharply. 

"I'll  go  of  my  own  accord,"  cried  Daisy,  retreating 
from  Mrs.  Morley;  "and  I'll  ask  Giles  to  marry  me  at 
once,  and  take  me  from  this  horrid  house.  You  are  a 
cruel  and  a  wicked  man,  Mr.  Morley,  and  I  hate  you — 
I  hate  you !  As  for  you" — she  turned  in  a  vixenish  man- 
ner on  Anne — "I  hope  you  will  be  put  in  gaol  some  day. 
If  I  die  you  will  be  hanged — hanged  !"  And  with  a  stamp 
of  her  foot  she  dashed  out  of  the  room,  banging  the  door. 

"Hysteria,"  said  Morley,  wiping  his  face,  "we  must 
have  a  doctor  to  see  her." 

"Miss  Denham,"  said  the  wife,  who  was  weeping  at 
the  cruel  words  of  the  girl,  "I  ask  you  if  Daisy  has  ever 
been  treated  harshly  in  my  house?" 

"No,  dear  Mrs.  jMorley,  she  has  always  received  the 
greatest  kindness  both  from  you  and  your  husband.  She 
is  not  herself  to-day — that  cruel  letter  has  upset  her.  In 
a  short  time  she  will  repent  of  her  behavior." 


30  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"If  she  speaks  like  this  to  Mrs.  Parry,  what  will  hap- 
pen?" moaned  the  poor  woman,  wringing  her  hands. 

"I'll  have  Mrs.  Parry  in  court  for  libel  if  she  says  any- 
thing against  us,"  said  Morley  fiercely.  "The  girl  is  an 
hysterical  idiot.  To  accuse  her  best  friends  of — pshaw ! 
it's  not  worth  taking  notice  of.  But  this  letter,  Miss 
Denham  ?" 

"I  k-now  nothing  about  it,  Mr.  Morley." 

"Humph !  I  wonder  if  Daisy  wrote  it  herself." 

"Oliver!"  cried  Mrs.  Morley  in  amazement. 

"Why  not?  Hysterical  girls  do  queer  things  at  times. 
I  don't  suppose  Mrs.  Parry  wrote  it,  old  scandal-monger 
as  she  is.  It  is  a  strange  letter.  That  Scarlet  Cross,  for 
instance."     He  fixed  an  inquiring  eye  on  Anne. 

"That  is  the  one  thing  that  makes  me  think  Daisy  did 
not  write  the  letter.  I  fancied  myself  she  might  have 
done  it  in  a  moment  of  hysteria  and  out  of  hatred  of  me, 
but  she  could  not  know  anything  of  the  Scarlet  Cross. 
No  one  in  Rickwell  could  know  of  that." 

"The  letter  was  posted  in  London — in  the  General  Post 
Office." 

"But  why  should  any  one  write  such  a  letter  about  me," 
said  Anne,  raising  her  hands  to  her  forehead,  "and  the 
Scarlet  Cross?     It  is  very  strange." 

"What  is  the  Scarlet  Cross?"  asked  Mrs.  Morley  seri- 
ously. 

"I  know  no  more  than  you  do,"  replied  Anne  earnestly, 
"save  that  my  father  sometimes  received  letters  marked 
with  a  red  cross  and  on  his  watch-chain  wore  a  gold  cross 
enamelled  with  scarlet." 

"Did  your  father  know  what  the  cross  meant?"  asked 
Mrs.  Morley. 

"He  must  have  known,  but  he  never  explained  the  mat- 
ter to  me." 


A  MYSTERIOUS  VISITOR  3L 


"Perhaps  if  you  asked  him  now  to " 

"My  father  is  dead,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice;  "he  died 
a  year  ago  in  Italy." 

"Then  this  mystery  must  remain  a  mystery,"  said  Mor- 
ley,  with  a  shrug.  "Upon  my  word,  I  don't  like  all  this. 
What  is  to  be  done  ?" 

"Put  the  letter  into  the  hands  of  the  police,"  suggested 
his  wife. 

"No,"  said  Morley  decisively;  "if  the  police  heard  the 
ravings  of  Daisy,  Heaven  knows  what  they  would  think." 

"But,  my  dear,  it  is  ridiculous,"  said  Mrs.  Morley  in- 
dignantly.    "We  have  always  treated  Daisy  like  one  of 
ourselves.       We  have  nothing  to  conceal.       I  am  very ' 
angry  at  her." 

"You  should  rather  pity  her,"  said  Anne  gently,  "for 
she  is  a  prey  to  nerves.  However,  the  best  thing  to  be 
done  is  for  me  to  leave  this  place.  I  shall  go  after  the 
New  Year." 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  the  children  will  do  with- 
out you,"  sighed  the  lady ;  "they  are  so  fond  of  you,  and 
I  never  had  any  governess  I  got  on  better  with.  What 
will  you  do?" 

"Get  a  situation  somewhere  else,"  said  Anne  cheerfully, 
"abroad  if  possible;  but  I  have  become  a  bugbear  to 
Daisy,  and  it  is  best  that  I  should  go." 

"I  think  so  too,  Miss  Denham,  although  both  my  wife 
and  I  are  extremely  sorry  to  lose  you." 

"You  have  been  good  friends  to  me,"  said  Miss  Den- 
ham simply,  "and  my  life  here  has  been  very  pleasant; 
but  it  is  best  I  should  go,"  she  repeated,  "and  that  let- 
ter, will  you  give  me  a  copy,  Mr.  Morley?" 

"Certainly,  but  for  what  reason  ?" 

"I  should  like  to  find  out  who  wrote  it,  and  why  it  was 


32  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

written.  It  will  be  a  difficult  matter,  but  I  am  curious 
to  know  who  this  enemy  of  mine  may  be." 

"Do  you  think  it  is  an  enemy?"  asked  Mrs.  Morley. 

Anne  nodded.  "And  an  enemy  that  knows  something 
about  my  father's  life,"  she  said  emphatically,  "else  why 
was  mention  made  about  the  Scarlet  Cross?  But  I'll 
learn  the  truth  somehow,  even  if  I  have  to  employ  a 
detective." 

"You  had  much  better  leave  the  matter  alone  and  get 
another  situation.  Miss  Denham,"  said  Morley  sagely. 
"We  will  probably  hear  no  more  of  this,  and  when  you 
go  the  matter  will  fade  from  Daisy's  mind.  I'll  send  her 
away  to  the  seaside  for  a  week,  and  have  the  doctor  to 
see  her." 

"Dr.  Tait  shall  see  her  at  once,"  said  Mrs.  Morley,  with 
more  vigor  than  was  usual  with  her.  "But  about  your 
going.  Miss  Denham,  I  am  truly  sorry.  You  have  been 
a  good  friend  to  me,  and  the  dear  children  do  you  credit. 
I  hope  we  shall  see  you  again." 

"When  Daisy  is  married,  not  before,"  replied  Anne 
firmly;  "but  I  will  keep  you  advised  of  my  address." 

After  some  further  conversation  on  this  point  the  two 
women  left  the  library.  Daisy  had  shut  herself  in  her 
room,  and  thither  went  Mrs.  Morley.  She  managed  to 
sooth  the  girl,  and  gave  her  a  sedative  which  calmed  her 
nerves.  When  Daisy  woke  from  sleep  somewhere  about 
five  she  expressed  herself  sorry  for  her  foolish  chatter, 
but  still  entertained  a  dread  and  a  hatred  of  Anne.  The 
governess  wisely  kept  out  of  the  way  and  made  her  prepa- 
rations for  departure.  As  yet  the  children  were  not  told 
that  they  were  to  lose  her.  Knowing  what  their  lamenta- 
tions would  be  like,  Mrs.  Morley  wisely  determined  to 
postpone  that  information  till  the  eleventh  hour. 

There  was  to  be  a  midnight  service  at  the  parish  church 


A  MYSTERIOUS  VISITOR  33 

in  honor  of  the  New  Year,  and  Anne  determined  to  go. 
She  wanted  all  the  spiritual  help  possible  in  her  present 
state  of  perplexity.  The  unhappy  love  that  existed  be- 
tween her  and  Giles,  the  enmity  of  Daisy,  the  anxiety  of 
the  anonymous  letter — these  things  worried  her  not  a 
little.  She  received  permission  from  Mrs.  Morley  to  go 
to  the  midnight  service. 

"But  be  careful  Daisy  does  not  see  you,"  said  she  anx- 
iously. 

"Is  Daisy  going  also?" 

"Yes.     Giles  is  coming  to  take  her  in  his  motor-car." 

"I  hope  she  will  say  nothing  to  him  about  the  letter." 

"I'll  see  to  that.  She  is  much  quieter  and  recognizes 
how  foolish  she  has  been.     It  will  be  all  right." 

Morley  was  much  upset  by  the  state  of  affairs.  But  a 
few  days  before  and  life  had  been  all  plain  sailing,  now 
there  was  little  else  but  trouble  and  confusion.  His  ruddy 
face  was  pale,  and  he  had  a  careworn  expression.  For 
the  most  part  of  the  day  he  remained  in  his  library  and 
saw  no  one.  Towards  the  evening  he  asked  his  wife  not 
to  bring  the  triplets  to  the  library  as  usual,  as  he  had  to 
see  some  one  on  business.  Who  it  was  he  refused  to 
say,  and  Mrs.  Morley,  having  no  curiosity,  did  not  press 
the  question. 

After  dinner  the  visitor  arrived — a  tall  man  muffled  in 
a  great-coat  against  the  cold,  and  wearing  a  thick  white 
scarf  round  his  throat.  He  was  shown  into  the  library 
and  remained  with  Mr.  Morley  till  after  nine.  About 
that  time  Anne  found  occasion  to  go  into  the  library  in 
search  of  a  book.  She  had  not  heard  the  prohibition  of 
Morley,  and  did  not  hesitate  to  enter  without  knocking, 
supposing  that  no  one  was  within. 

Meantime  Daisy  dressed  herself  very  carefully  in  ex- 
pectation of  Ware's  arrival.     He  was  to  take  her  for  a 


34  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

ride  in  his  motor  before  Churcli,  and  then  they  were  to 
go  to  the  service  together.  There  was  plenty  of  snow 
on  the  ground,  but  the  nights  were  always  bright  with 
moonlight.  Daisy  had  a  fancy  for  a  moonlight  ride,  and 
Giles  was  willing  to  humor  her.  She  expected  him  about 
ten,  and  descended  shortly  after  nine  to  watch  for  him 
from  the  drawing-room  window. 

Outside  it  was  almost  as  light  as  day,  and  the  white 
sheet  of  snow  threw  back  a  reflection  of  the  moonlight. 
Daisy  gazed  eagerly  down  the  avenue,  where  the  leafless 
trees  rocked  in  the  cutting  wind.  Unexpectedly  she  saw 
a  tall  man  come  round  the  corner  of  the  house  and  walk 
swiftly  down  the  avenue.  She  knew  from  Mrs.  INIorley 
that  there  was  a  visitor  in  the  library,  and  wondered  why 
he  had  elected  to  leave  by  the  window,  as  he  must  have 
done  to  come  round  the  house  in  this  way.  Being  curi- 
ous, she  thought  she  would  tell  Mr.  Morley  of  what  she 
had  seen,  and  went  in  search  of  him. 

At  the  door  of  the  library  she  had  just  laid  her  hand 
on  the  handle  when  it  suddenly  opened,  and  Anne  came 
out.  Her  face  was  white  and  drawn,  her  eyes  were  filled 
with  fear,  and  she  passed  the  astonished  girl  in  a  blind 
and  stumbling  fashion  as  though  she  did  not  see  her. 
Daisy  saw  her  feebly  ascend  the  stairs,  clutching  the  ban- 
isters. Wondering  at  this,  Miss  Kent  entered  the  room. 
Morley  was  standing  by  the  window — the  middle  win- 
dow— looking  out.  It  was  open.  He  started  and  turned 
when  Daisy  entered,  and  she  saw  that  he  was  perturbed 
also. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  asked,  coming  forward. 

"Nothing.     What  should  be  the  matter?" 

Morley  spoke  shortly  and  not  in  a  pleasant  tone.  "I 
thought  that  Anne,  that  Miss  Denham,  looked  ill,"  said 
Daisy. 


A  MYSTERIOUS  VISITOR  35 

"Don't  you  think  you  had  better  leave  Aliss  Denham 
alone,  Daisy,  seeing  the  mischief  you  have  caused?  She 
has  been  weeping  herself  blind  here." 

"Well,  that  letter " 

"Oh,  that  letter  is  rubbish !"  interrupted  Morley  scorn- 
fully. "]\Iiss  Denham  is  a  simple,  kind  woman,  and  you 
should  take  no  notice  of  anonymous  correspondence. 
However,  she  is  going  away  to-morrow.  I  have  just  paid 
her  her  wages." 

"I  am  glad  she  is  going,"  said  Miss  Kent  doggedly; 
"I  am  afraid  of  her.     You  think  she  is  an  angel ;  I  don't." 

"I  don't  think  anything  about  her;  but  I  do  think  you 
are  a  very  hysterical  girl,  and  have  caused  a  great  deal 
of  unnecessary  trouble.  j\Iiss  Denham  is  not  in  love  with 
Ware,  and  it  is  only  your  absurd  jealousy  that  would  ac- 
cuse her  of  such  a  thing.  Besides,  this  morning  you  be- 
haved very  badly  to  my  wife  and  myself.  You  must  go 
away  for  a  time  till  we  can  get  over  your  ungrateful  words 
and  conduct." 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Daisy  humbly,  "but  it  was  Anne 
who  disturbed  me,  and  that  letter.     I  was  afraid." 

"Then  you  admit  that  we  have  behaved  well  ?" 

"You  are  my  best  friends." 

"Thank  you.     And  now  may  I  ask  what  you  want  ?" 

"I  came  to  tell  you  that  I  am  going  to  church.  I 
thought  you  were  engaged." 

"So  I  was ;  but  my  visitor  is  gone." 

"I  know ;  he  went  out  by  that  window.  I  saw  him  go- 
ing down  the  avenue.     Who  is  he?" 

"A  friend  of  mine.  That  is  all  you  need  to  know.  Did 
you  think  it  was  some  one  who  had  to  do  with  the  anony- 
mous letter?" 

"No,  no!"     Daisy  seemed  to  be  thoroughly  ashamed 


36  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

of  herself.  "But  you  must  admit  that  the  letter  was 
strange." 

"So  strange  that  you  had  better  say  nothing  about  it. 
Don't  mention  it  to  Giles." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  I  will  find  occasion  to  tell  him  myself.  I  at 
least  will  be  able  to  explain  without  showing  jealousy 
of  poor  Miss  Denham." 

"I  won't  say  anything,"  replied  Daisy,  with  a  toss  of 
her  head,  "but  you  are  all  mad  about  Anne  Denham.  I 
don't  believe  she  is  a  good  woman.  What  is  the  matter 
with  her  now?     She  seems  ill." 

"For  Heaven's  sake  don't  ask  me  any  further  ques- 
tions," said  Morley  irritably.  "What  with  your  conduct 
of  this  morning  and  other  things  with  which  you  have  no 
concern  I  am  worried  out  of  my  life." 

Daisy  took  the  hint  and  walked  away.  When  she  got 
outside  the  library  she  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Mor- 
ley's  visitor  was  a  bailiff,  and  that  was  why  he  had  been 
shown  out  by  the  window.  Decidedly  her  guardian  was 
in  a  bad  way  financially  speaking. 

"I  shall  marry  Giles  and  get  away  from  them  all,"  said 
the  grateful  Daisy.  "They  may  be  sold  up,  and  my  hun- 
dred a  year  will  not  keep  me.  What  a  mercy  that  Giles 
is  so  rich  and  loves  me !  No,  he  does  not  love  me,"  she 
said  vehemently  to  herself.  "It  is  that  woman.  But  he 
is  engaged  to  me,  and  I'll  marry  him  if  only  to  spite  her." 


CHAPTER  IVi 

THE  CHURCHYARD 

TO  Daisy  that  drive  in  the  motor-car  was  like  an  ex- 
quisite dream.  Her  frivolous,  shallow  soul  was 
awed  by  the  vast  white  waste  gleaming  mysteriously  in 
the  moonlight  as  the  car  sped  like  a  bird  along  the  silent 
roads.  There  was  not  a  cloud  in  a  sky  that  shone  like 
tempered  steel ;  and  amidst  the  frosty  glitter  of  innumer- 
able stars  the  hard  moon  looked  down  on  an  enchanted 
world  With  Giles'  hand  on  the  steering  gear  and  Daisy 
beside  him  wrapped  in  a  buffalo  rug,  the  machine  flew 
over  the  pearly  whiteness  with  the  skimming  swiftness 
of  the  magic  horse.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Daisy 
felt  what  flying  was  like,  and  was  content  to  be  silent. 

Giles  was  well  pleased  that  the  Great  Mother  should  still 
her  restless  tongue  for  the  moment.  He  was  doing  his 
duty  and  the  will  of  his  dead  father,  but  his  heart  ached 
when  he  thought  of  the  woman  who  should  be  by  his  side. 
Oh  that  they  two  could  undertake  this  magical  journey  to- 
gether, silent  and  alone  in  a  silent  and  lonely  world.  He 
made  no  inquiries  for  Anne,  and  Daisy  said  nothing. 
Only  when  the  car  was  humming  along  the  homeward 
road  to  land  them  at  the  church  did  she  open  her  mouth. 
The  awe  had  worn  off,  and  she  babbled  as  of  old  in  the 
very  face  of  this  white  splendor. 


38  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Anne's  going  away,"  she  said  abruptly. 

For  the  Hfc  of  him  Giles  could  not  help  starting,  but 
he  managed  to  control  his  voice  and  speak  carelessly. 
"Ah,  and  how  is  that?"  he  asked,  busy  with  the  wheel. 

"She  is  going  to-morrow.  I  suppose  she  is  tired  of 
the  dull  life  here." 

"I  expect  she  is,"  replied  Ware  curtly. 

"Are  you  sorry?" 

Giles  felt  that  she  was  pushing  home  the  point  and  that 
it  behooved  him  to  be  extra  careful.  "Yes,  I  am  sorry," 
he  said  frankly.  "Miss  Denham  is  a  most  interesting 
woman." 

"Does  that  mean " 

"It  means  nothing  personal,  Daisy,"  he  broke  in  hastily ; 
then  to  change  the  subject,  "I  hope  you  have  enjoyed 
the  ride." 

"It  is  heavenly,  Giles.     How  good  of  you  to  take  me !" 

"My  dear,  I  would  do  much  more  for  you.  When  we 
are  married  we  must  tour  through  England  in  this  way." 

"You  and  I  together.  How  delightful !  That  is  if 
you  will  not  get  tired  of  me." 

"I  am  not  likely  to  get  tired  of  such  a  charming  little 
woman." 

Then  he  proceeded  to  pay  her  compliments,  while  his 
soul  sickened  at  the  avidity  with  which  she  swallowed 
them.  He  asked  himself  if  it  would  not  be  better  to  put 
an  end  to  this  impossible  state  of  things  by  telling  her 
he  was  in  love  with  Anne.  But  when  he  glanced  at  the 
little  fragile  figure  beside  him,  and  noted  the  delicacy  and 
ethereal  look  in  her  face,  he  felt  that  it  would  be  brutal  to 
destroy  her  dream  of  happiness  at  the  eleventh  hour.  Of 
himself  he  tried  to  think  not  at  all.  So  far  as  he  could 
see  there  was  no  happiness  for  him.     He  would  have  to 


THE  CHURCHYARD  39 

go  through  life  doing  his  duty.  And  Anne — he  put  the 
thought  of  her  from  him  with  a  shudder. 

''What  is  the  matter,  Giles?  Are  you  cold?"  asked 
Daisy. 

"No;  I  expect  a  white  hare  is  loping  over  my  grave." 

"Ugh !  Don't  talk  of  graves,"  said  Daisy,  with  a  ner- 
vous expression. 

"Not  a  cheerful  subject,  I  confess,"  said  Giles,  smiling, 
"and  here  we  are  in  the  very  thick  of  them,"  he  added, 
as  the  motor  slowed  down  before  the  lych-gate. 

Daisy  looked  at  the  innumerable  tombstones  which 
thrust  themselves  up  through  the  snow  and  shivered. 
"It's  horrible,  I  think.     Fancy  being  buried  there!" 

"A  beautiful  spot  in  summer.  Do  you  remember  what 
Keats  said  about  one  being  half  in  love  with  death  to 
be  buried  in  so  sweet  a  place?" 

"Giles,"  she  cried  half  hysterically,  "don't  talk  like 
that.  I  may  be  dead  and  buried  before  you  know  that  a 
tragedy  has  occurred.  The  cards  say  that  I  am  to  die 
young." 

"Why,  Daisy,  what  is  the  matter?" 

She  made  no  reply.  A  memory  of  the  anonymous  let- 
ter and  its  threat  came  home  vividly  to  her  as  she  stepped 
inside  the  churchyard.  Who  knew  but  what  within  a 
few  days  she  might  be  borne  through  that  self-same  gate 
in  her  coffin?  However,  she  had  promised  to  say  noth- 
ing about  the  letter,  and  fearful  lest  she  should  let  slip 
some  remark  to  arouse  the  suspicions  of  Giles,  she  flew 
up  the  path. 

Already  the  village  folk  were  thronging  to  the  midnight 
service.  The  bells  were  ringing  with  a  musical  chime, 
and  the  painted  windows  of  the  church  glittered  with 
rainbow  hues.  The  organist  was  playing  some  Christ- 
mas carol,  and  the  waves  of  sound  rolled  out  solemnly 


40  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

on  the  still  air.  With  salutation  and  curtsey  the  villagers 
passed  by  the  youn^  squire.  He  waited  to  hand  over  his 
car  to  his  servant,  who  came  up  at  the  moment,  breath- 
less with  haste.     "Shall  I  wait  for  you,  sir?" 

"No,  take  the  car  to  the  inn,  and  make  yourself  com- 
fortable.    In  an  hour  you  can  return." 

Nothing  loth  to  get  indoors  and  out  of  the  bitter  cold, 
the  man  drove  the  machine,  humming  like  a  top,  down  the 
road.  The  sky  was  now  clouding  over,  and  a  wind  was 
getting  up.  As  Giles  walked  into  the  church  he  thought 
there  was  every  promise  of  a  storm,  and  wondered  that 
it  should  labor  up  so  rapidly  considering  the  previous 
calm  of  the  night.  However,  he  did  not  think  further 
on  the  matter,  but  when  within  looked  around  for  Daisy. 
She  was  at  the  lower  end  of  the  church  staring  not  at  the 
altar  now  glittering  with  candles,  but  at  the  figure  of  a 
woman  some  distance  away  who  was  kneeling  with  her 
face  hidden  in  her  hands.  With  a  thrill  Giles  recognized 
Anne,  and  fearful  lest  Daisy  should  be  jealous  did  he  re- 
main in  her  vicinity,  he  made  his  way  up  to  his  own  pew, 
which  was  in  the  lady  chapel  near  the  altar.  Here  he 
took  his  seat  and  strove  to  forget  both  the  woman  he 
loved  and  the  woman  he  did  not  love.  But  it  was  diffi- 
cult for  him  to  render  his  mind  a  blank  on  this  subject. 

The  organ  had  been  silent  for  some  time,  but  it  now 
recommenced  its  low-breathed  music.  Then  the  choir 
came  slowly  up  the  aisle  singing  lustily  a  Christmas  hymn. 
The  vicar,  severe  and  ascetic,  followed,  his  eyes  bent  on 
the  ground.  When  the  service  commenced  Giles  tried  to 
pay  attention,  but  found  it  almost  impossible  to  prevent 
his  thoughts  wandering  towards  the  two  women.  He 
tried  to  see  them,  but  pillars  intervened,  and  he  could  not 
catch  a  glimpse  of  either.  But  his  gaze  fell  on  the  tall 
figure  of  a  man  who  was  standing  at  the  lower  end  of 


THE  CHURCHYARD  41 

the  church  near  the  door.  He  was  evidently  a  stranger, 
for  his  eyes  wandered  inquisitively  round  the  church.  In 
a  heavy  great-coat  and  with  a  white  scarf  round  his  throat, 
he  was  well  protected  against  the  cold.  Giles  noted  his 
thin  face,  his  short  red  beard,  and  his  large  black  eyes. 
His  age  was  probably  something  over  fifty,  and  he  looked 
ill,  worried,  and  worn.  Wondering  who  he  was  and  what 
brought  him  to  such  an  out-of-the-way  place  as  Rickwell 
at  such  a  time,  Giles  settled  himself  comfortably  in  his 
seat  to  hear  the  sermon. 

The  vicar  was  not  a  particularly  original  preacher.  He 
discoursed  platitudes  about  the  coming  year  and  the  du- 
ties it  entailed  on  his  congregation.  Owing  to  the  length 
of  the  sermon  and  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  the  people 
yawned  and  turned  uneasily  in  their  seats.  But  no  one 
ventured  to  leave  the  church,  although  the  sermon  lasted 
close  on  an  hour.  It  seemed  as  though  the  preacher 
would  never  leave  off  insisting  on  the  same  things  over 
and  over  again.  He  repeated  himself  twice  and  thrice, 
and  interspersed  his  common-place  English  with  the  lord- 
ly roll  of  biblical  texts.  But  for  his  position,  Giles  would 
have  gone  away.  It  was  long  over  the  hour,  and  he  knew 
that  his  servant  would  be  waiting  in  the  cold.  When  he 
stood  up  for  the  concluding  hymn  he  craned  his  head 
round  a  pillar  to  see  Daisy.  She  had  vanished,  and  he 
thought  that  like  himself  she  had  grown  weary  of  the 
sermon,  but  more  fortunate  than  he,  she  had  been  able 
to  slip  away.  Anne's  place  he  could  not  see  and  did  not 
know  whether  she  was  absent  or  present. 

Giles  wondered  for  one  delicious  moment  if  he  could 
see  her  before  she  left  the  church.  Daisy,  evidently 
wearied  by  the  sermon,  had  gone  home,  there  was  no  one 
to  spy  upon  him,  and  he  might  be  able  to  have  Anne  all 
to  himself  for  a  time.     He  could  then  ask  her  why  she 


4a  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

was  going,  and  perhaps  force  her  to  confess  that  she 
loved  him.  But  even  as  he  thought  his  conscience  re- 
buked him  for  his  treachery  to  Daisy.  He  fortified  him- 
self with  good  resolutions,  and  resolved  not  to  leave  his 
seat  until  the  congregation  had  dispersed.  Thus  he  would 
not  be  tempted  by  the  sight  of  Anne. 

The  benediction  was  given,  the  choir  retired  with  a 
last  musical  "Amen,"  and  the  worshippers  departed.  But 
Giles  remained  in  his  seat,  kneeling  and  with  his  face 
hidden.  He  was  praying  for  a  strength  he  sorely  needed 
to  enable  him  to  forget  Anne  and  to  remain  faithful  to  the 
woman  whom  his  father  had  selected  to  be  his  wife.  Not 
until  the  music  of  the  organ  ceased  and  the  verger  came 
to  extinguish  the  altar  candles  did  Giles  venture  to  go. 
But  by  this  time  he  thought  Anne  would  surely  be  well 
on  her  homeward  way.  He  would  return  to  his  own 
place  as  fast  as  his  motor  could  take  him,  and  thus  would 
avoid  temptation.  At  the  present  moment  he  could  not 
trust  to  his  emotions. 

Outside  the  expected  storm  had  come  on,  and  snow 
was  falling  thickly  from  a  black  sky.  The  light  at  the 
lych-gate  twinkled  feebly,  and  Giles  groped  his  way  down 
the  almost  obliterated  pathway  quite  alone,  for  everv  one 
else  had  departed.  He  reached  the  gate  quite  expecting 
to  find  his  motor,  but  to  his  surprise  it  was  not  there.  Not 
a  soul  was  in  sight,  and  the  snow  was  falling  like  meal. 

Giles  fancied  that  his  servant  had  dropped  asleep  in 
the  inn  or  had  forgotten  the  appointed  hour.  In  his  heart 
he  could  not  blame  the  man,  for  the  weather  was  arctic 
in  its  severity.  However,  he  determined  to  wend  his 
way  to  the  inn  and  reprove  him  for  his  negligence.  Step- 
ping out  of  the  gate  he  began  to  walk  against  the  driving 
snow  with  bent  head,  when  he  ran  into  the  amis  of  a  man 


THE  CHURCHYARD  43 

who  was  running  hard.  In  the  Ught  of  the  lamp  over  the 
gate  he  recognized  him  as  Trim,  his  servant. 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,  I  could  not  get  here  any  sooner.  The 
car "  The  man  stopped  and  stared  round  in  amaze- 
ment. "Why,  sir,  v^^here's  the  machine?"  he  asked,  with 
astonishment. 

"In  your  charge,  I  suppose,"  replied  Ware  angrily. 
"Why  were  you  not  here  at  the  time  I  appointed?" 

"I  was,  begging  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Trim  hotly; 
"but  the  lady  told  me  you  had  gone  to  see  Miss  Kent 
back  to  The  Elms  and  that  you  wanted  to  see  me.  I  left 
the  car  here  in  charge  of  the  lady  and  ran  all  the  way  to 
The  Elms ;  but  they  tell  me  there  that  Miss  Daisy  hasn't 
arrived  and  that  nothing  has  been  seen  of  you,  sir." 

Ware  listened  to  this  explanation  with  surprise.  "I 
sent  no  such  message,"  he  said;  "and  this  lady,  who  was 
she?" 

"Why,  Miss  Denham,  sir.  She  said  she  would  look 
after  the  car  till  I  came  back,  and  knowing  as  she  was  a 
friend  of  yours,  sir,  I  thought  it  was  all  right."  Trim 
stared  all  round  him.  "She's  taken  the  car  away,  I  see, 
sir." 

The  matter  puzzled  Giles.  He  could  not  understand 
why  Anne  should  have  behaved  in  such  a  manner,  and 
still  less  could  he  understand  why  the  car  should  have 
disappeared.  He  knew  well  that  she  could  drive  a  motor, 
for  he  had  taught  her  himself;  but  that  she  should  thus 
take  possession  of  his  property  and  get  rid  of  his  man 
in  so  sly  a  way  perplexed  and  annoyed  him.  He  and 
Trim  stood  amidst  the  falling  snow  staring  at  one  an- 
other, almost  too  surprised  to  speak. 

Suddenly  they  heard  a  loud  cry  of  fear,  and  a  moment 
afterward  an  urchin — one  of  the  choir  lads — came  tearing 
down  the  path  as  though  pursued  by  a  legion  of  fiends. 


44  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

Giles  cauplit  liim  by  the  collar  as  he  ran  panting  and 
white-faced  past  him. 

"What's  the  matter?''  he  asked  harshly.  "Why  did 
you  cry  out  like  that?     Where  are  you  going?" 

"To  mother.  Oh,  let  me  go!"  wailed  the  lad.  "I  see 
her  lying  on  the  grave.  I'm  frightened.  Mother! 
mother !" 

"Saw  who  lying  on  the  grave?'' 

"I  don't  know.  A  lady.  Her  face  is  down  in  the  snow, 
and  she  is  bleeding.  I  dropped  the  lantern  mother  gave 
me  and  scudded,  sir.     Do  let  me  go !     I  never  did  it !" 

"Did  what?"  Giles  in  his  nervous  agitation  shook  the 
boy. 

"Killed  her!  I  didn't!  She's  lying  on  Mr.  Kent's 
grave,  and  I  don't  know  who  she  is." 

Ho  gave  another  cry  for  his  mother  and  tried  to  get 
away,  but  Giles,  followed  by  Trim,  led  him  up  the  path. 
"Take  me  to  the  grave,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"I  won't!"  yelped  the  lad,  and  tearing  his  jacket  in  his 
eagerness  to  escape,  he  scampered  past  Trim  and  out  of 
the  gate  like  a  frightened  hare.  Giles  stopped  for  a  mo- 
ment to  wipe  his  perspiring  forehead  and  pass  his  tongue 
over  his  dry  lips,  then  he  made  a  sign  to  Trim  to  follow, 
and  walked  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  Mr.  Kent's  grave. 
He  dreaded  what  he  should  find  there,  and  his  heart  beat 
like  a  sledge-hammer. 

The  grave  was  at  the  back  of  the  church,  and  the  choir 
boy  had  evidently  passed  it  when  trying  to  take  a  short 
cut  to  his  mother's  cottage  over  the  hedge.  The  snow 
was  falling  so  thickly  and  the  night  was  so  dark  that 
Giles  wondered  how  the  lad  could  have  seen  any  one  on 
the  grave.  Then  he  remembered  that  the  lad  had  spoken 
of  a  lantern.  During  a  lull  in  the  wind  he  lighted  a 
match,  and  by  the  blue  glare  he  saw  the  lantern  almost  at 


THE  CHURCHYARD  45 

his  feet,  where  the  boy  had  dropped  it  in  his  precipitate 
flight.  Hastily  picking  this  up,  he  hghted  the  candle 
with  shaking  fingers  and  closed  the  glass.  A  moment 
later,  and  he  was  striding  towards  the  grave  with  the 
lantern  casting  a  large  circle  of  light  before  him. 

In  the  ring  of  that  pale  illumination  he  saw  the  tall 
tombstone,  and  beneath  it  the  figure  of  a  woman  lying 
face  downward  on  the  snow.  Trim  gave  an  exclamation 
of  astonishment,  but  Giles  set  his  mouth  and  suppressed 
all  signs  of  emotion.  He  wondered  if  the  figure  was  that 
of  Anne  or  of  Daisy,  and  whether  the  woman,  whomso- 
ever she  was,  was  dead  or  alive.  Suddenly  he  started 
back  with  horror.  From  a  wound  under  the  left  shoulder- 
blade  a  crimson  stream  had  welled  forth,  and  the  snow 
was  stained  with  a  brilliant  red.  The  staring  eyes  of  the 
groom  looked  over  his  shoulder  as  he  turned  the  body 
face  upwards.  Then  Giles  uttered  a  cry.  Here  was 
Daisy  Kent  lying  dead — murdered — on  her  father's  grave ! 


CHAPTER  V 


AFTERWARDS 


NEVER  before  had  any  event  created  such  a  sensation 
in  the  village  of  Rickwell.  From  the  choir  boy 
and  his  mother  the  news  quickly  spread.  Also  Giles  had 
to  call  in  the  aid  of  the  rector  to  have  the  body  of  the 
unfortunate  girl  carried  to  The  Elms.  In  a  short  time 
the  churchyard  was  filled  with  wondering  people,  and 
quite  a  cortege  escorted  the  corpse.  It  was  like  the  re- 
hearsal of  a  funeral  procession. 

Mrs.  Morley  had  gone  to  bed,  thinking  the  two  girls 
might  be  reconciled  in  church  and  come  home  together. 
Her  husband,  not  so  sanguine,  had  remained  in  the  libra- 
ry till  after  midnight,  ready  to  play  the  part  of  peace- 
maker should  any  fracas  occur.  He  appeared  in  the  hall 
when  poor  dead  Daisy  was  carried  through  the  door,  and 
stared  in  surprise  at  the  spectacle. 

"Great  heavens !"  he  cried,  coming  forward,  his  ruddy 
face  pale  with  sudden  emotion.    "What  is  all  this?" 

Giles  took  upon  himself  the  office  of  spokesman,  which 
the  rector,  remembering  that  he  had  been  engaged  to 
the  deceased,  tacitly  delegated  to  him. 

"It's  poor  Daisy,"  he  said  hoarsely.     "She  has  been — " 

"Murdered!     No.     Don't  say  murdered?" 


AFTERWARDS  47 

"Yes,  we  found  her  lying  on  her  father's  grave,  dead ; 
a  knife-thrust  under  the  left  shoulder-blade.  She  must 
have  died  almost  instantaneously." 

"Dead!"  muttered  Morley,  ghastly  white.  And  he 
approached  to  take  the  handkerchief  from  the  dead  face. 
"Dead !"  he  repeated,  replacing  it.  Then  he  looked  at 
the  haggard  face  of  Ware,  at  the  silent  group  of  men 
and  the  startled  women  standing  in  the  doorway,  where 
the  rector  was  keeping  them  back. 

"Where  is  her  murderess  ?"  he  asked  sharply. 

"Murderess !"  repeated  Giles  angrily.  "What  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"Mean?  Why,  that  Miss  Denham  has  cone  this, 
and " 

"You  are  mad  to  say  such  a  thing." 

"I'll  tax  her  with  it  to  her  face.  Where  is  she?  Not 
at  home,  for  I  have  been  waiting  to  see  her," 

"She's  run  way  on  Mr.  Ware's  motor-car,"  volunteered 
Trim,  only  to  be  clutched  violently  by  his  m:ister. 

"Don't  say  that,  you  fool.  You  can't  be  sure  of  that, 
Mr.  Morley,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  scared  man. 
"Make  no  remark  about  this  until  we  can  have  a  quiet 
talk  about  it." 

"But  I  say " 

"You  can  say  it  to  the  police  officer  in  the  morning." 

"She'll  have  escaped  by  that  time,"  whispered  Trim  to 
his  master. 

Giles  saw  the  danger  of  Anne — supposing  her  to  be 
guilty,  as  the  groom  thought  her — and  made  up  his  mind 
at  once. 

"Go  home,  Trim,  and  saddle  a  couple  of  horses.  We'll 
follow  the  track  of  the  car,  and  when  we  find  it " 

"You'll  never  find  it,"  put  in  Morley,  who  had  been 
listening  with  all  his  ears.     "The  falling  snow  must  have 


48  A  COL\  OF  EDWARD  ML 

obliterated  any  wheel-marks  by  this  time.     When  did  this 
occur?" 

"I  don't  know,"  repHed  Giles  coldly.  "And  instead  of 
chattering-  there,  you  had  better  have  the — the — "  he  stam- 
mered, "the  body  taken  into  some  room  and  attended  to. 
Poor  Daisy,"  he  sighed,  "what  an  end  to  your  bright 
young  life!" 

Here  Mr.  Drake,  the  rector,  thought  it  necessary  to 
assert  himself,  and  waved  aside  the  throng. 

"All  you  men  and  women,  go  to  your  homes,"  he  said. 
"Nothing  can  be  done  to-night,  and " 

"The  car  might  be  followed,"  said  a  voice. 

"And  the  car  will  be  followed,"  said  Giles,  pushing  his 
way  to  the  door.  "Come,  Trim,  we'll  ride  at  once.  Did 
no  one  see  the  car  pass  out  of  the  village?" 

No  one  had  seen  it,  as  most  of  the  villagers  had  been 
inside  the  church  and  the  rest  in  their  homes. 

There  was  some  talk  and  suggestions,  but  Ware,  with 
a  nod  to  Morley,  took  a  hasty  departure  and  disappeared 
into  the  stormy  night. 

"He  might  track  the  car,"  said  the  rector. 

"He  won't,"  replied  Morley  bitterly ;  "he'll  lead  Trim 
on  a  wrong  scent.  He  liked  Miss  Denham  too  well  to 
let  her  drop  into  the  hands  of  the  police." 

"Then  you  really  think  she  did  it?"  asked  Drake,  hor- 
rified. 

"I  am  perfectly  certain,"  was  the  reply.  "Come  into 
the  library,  and  I'll  show  you  what  evidence  I  have." 

]\Ieantime  the  hall  was  cleared  of  the  eager  listeners, 
and  all  present  went  to  their  homes  less  to  sleep  than  to 
argue  as  to  the  guilt  or  innocence  of  Anne.  The  body 
of  the  girl  was  taken  to  her  bedroom,  and  poor  scared 
Mrs.  Morley,  roused  from  her  bed  to  face  this  tragedy, 
did  all  that  was  needful,  assisted  by  two  old  women,  who 


AFTERWARDS  49 

remained  behind  to  offer  their  services.  This  was  all  that 
could  be  done  till  dawTi,  and  Mrs.  Morley,  thinking  of 
tlie  dead  Daisy  and  the  missing  Anne,  wept  till  the  first 
streaks  of  daylight.  As  yet  her  limited  understandmg 
could  not  grasp  the  horror  of  the  thing. 

IMorley  conducted  Mr.  Drake  to  the  library.  He  re- 
lated how  his  wife  had  heard  Anne  threaten  to  kill  Daisy, 
produced  the  anonymous  letter,  detailed  Daisy's  accusa- 
tion that  the  governess  was  in  love  with  Ware,  and  finally 
pointed  out  the  damning  fact  of  the  flight.  The  rector 
was  quite  convinced  by  this  reasoning  that  Anne  was 
guilty. 

"And  now  I  come  to  think  of  it,"  he  said,  stroking 
his  shaven  chin,  "Miss  Kent  was  in  church." 

"Yes,  so  was  Miss  Denham ;  but  I  don't  think  they  sat 
together,  as  they  were  on  the  worst  possible  terms.  Did 
you  see  Daisy  ?" 

Drake  nodded.  "She  went  out  when  I  was  half-way 
through  my  sermon.  I  remember  that  I  felt  a  little  an- 
noyed that  she  should  leave  when  I  was  doing  my  best 
to  inculcate  good  habits  for  the  year  in  my  congregation. 
She  must  have  gone  to  pray  at  her  father's  grave,  and 
there "    Drake  stopped  with  sudden  terror  in  his  eyes. 

"And  there  Miss  Denham  stabbed  her.  Ware  said  the 
wound  was  beneath  the  left  shoulder-blade.  That  looks 
as  though  Daisy  was  struck  from  behind.  I  can  see  it 
all,"  cried  Morley,  with  a  shudder.  "The  poor  child  pray- 
ing by  her  father's  grave,  and  the  stealthy  approach  of 
that  woman  armed  with  a " 

"Ah  !"  interposed  Drake,  "there  you  are.  We  have  not 
yet  found  the  weapon  ;  and  after  all,  Morley,  the  evidence 
is  purely  circumstantial.  We  do  not  know  for  certain  that 
Miss  Denham  is  the  guilty  person." 

"Why  did  she  fly,  then  ?"  demanded  Morley  fiercely.  "If 


50  -A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  \II. 

she  were  innocent — if  she  had  not  left  the  ehiirch  until 
the  others  (Hd — she  would  have  returned,  and  now  been 
in  bed.  But  from  what  Trim  says  she  fled  on  Ware's 
motor-car." 

"Humph !  She  can't  get  far  on  that.  Such  a  night, 
too." 

And  the  rector  walked  to  the  window  to  watch  the  still 
falling  snow. 

]\lorley  shook  his  head.  "Miss  Denham  knows  the  coun- 
try for  miles  and  miles,  and  Ware  taught  her  how  to  drive 
the  motor.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  she  got  away  after 
all,  in  spite  of  the  weather." 

Drake  looked  uneasy,  and  placed  himself  before  the  fire 
with  a  shiver.  He  rather  admired  Miss  Denham,  and 
could  not  yet  bring  himself  to  believe  that  she  was  guilty. 
Even  if  she  were,  he  cherished  a  secret  hope  that  she 
might  escape  the  police.  It  was  terrible  to  think  that  one 
woman  should  be  dead,  but  it  was  more  awful  to  look 
forward  to  the  trial,  condemnation,  and  hanging  of  the 
other. 

"I  blame  Ware  a  good  deal  for  this,"  continued  ]\Iorley 
gloomily.  "He  openly  admired  Miss  Denham,  and  en- 
couraged her  to  flirt  with  him.  A  rash  thing  to  do  to  one 
who  has  negro  blood  in  her  veins.  I  expect  passion  car- 
ried her  beyond  herself." 

"How  do  you  know  she  has  negro  blood  ?" 

"She  said  so  herself." 

"Did  you  know  that  when  you  engaged  her  ?" 

"I  never  engaged  her  at  all,  Drake.  My  wife  did.  I 
must  say  that  Miss  Denham's  credentials  were  good.    She 

had  been  governess  in    an  Italian  family,  and  ha! •" 

He  stopped  suddenly,  and  started  up.  "In  Italy  siie  might 
have  procured  a  stiletto.     From  the  nature  of  the  wound 


AFTERWARDS  51 

— which  is  small  and  deep — I  should  think  it  was  inflicted 
with  such  a  weapon." 

"How  do  you  know  that  the  wound  is  small  and  deep?" 

"My  wife  told  me  when  she  came  to  the  door  that  time. 
You  did  not  hear  her.  She  says  the  wound  is  quite  small. 
In  that  case  it  must  be  deep,  or  the  death  would  not  have 
occurred  so  suddenly." 

Drake  shook  his  head.  "We  don't  know  that  it  did  oc- 
cur suddenly." 

Morley  contradicted  this  angrily.  "If  Daisy  had  not 
died  at  once  she  would  have  had  time  to  shriek,  and  the 
cry  would  have  been  heard  in  the  church." 

"I  doubt  it.  The  people  were  deeply  interested  in  my 
sermon." 

The  other  man  shrugged  his  shoulders.  It  was  scarcely 
worth  while  arguing  this  point  with  the  rector.  He  re- 
lapsed into  a  brown  study,  until  roused  to  reply  to  a  ques- 
tion asked  by  his  guest. 

"Have  you  ever  seen  a  stiletto  ?"  asked  Drake. 

"I  have  one  here,"  replied  Alorley,  running  his  eye  along 
the  wall ;  "one  that  I  got  in  Italy  myself.  It  was  said  to 
have  belonged  to  Lucrezia  Borgia.    I  wonder  where  it  is." 

"Rather  difficult  to  discover  it  amidst  all  these  weapons, 
Mr.  Morley.    Good  heavens  !  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

He  might  well  ask.  His  host  was  clutching  his  arm  in 
a  vice-like  hold,  and  was  pointing  to  a  certain  part  of  the 
wall  whereon  hung  a  pair  of  ancient  pistols,  a  crusader's 
shield,  and  an  old  helmet. 

"The  stiletto  was  there.    It  is  gone !"  gasped  Morley. 

"Impossible.    Who  can  have  taken  it  ?" 

"Miss  Denham !  Miss  Denham !  Oh,  and  you  believe 
her  to  be  innocent !"  cried  the  other.  "She  came  into  this 
very  room  at  nine  o'clock,  or  a  little  after.    I  was  outside 


52  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

on  the  terrace  seeing  a  visitor  off.  She  was  alone  in  the 
room  for  a  time.     She  nnist  liave  taken  the  weapon." 

"No,  no;  why  should  she  have?" 

"Because  she  intended  to  murder  my  poor  Daisy.  It 
was  all  arrang-ed  in  her  black  heart.  Drake,"  he  added 
solemnly,  "1  have  done  my  best  to  believe  that  woman 
innocent.  I  defended  her  against  Daisy,  and  my  wife  de- 
fended her  also.  We  tried  to  believe  that  she  iitd  no  ill 
intention,  and  see — see  what  comes  of  it.  She  steals  the 
stiletto,  and  kills  the  child  in  the  most  brutal  manner.  I 
swear  to  hunt  her  down.    I  swear !" 

The  rector  caught  down  the  uplifted  hand  which  Mor- 
ley  was  raising  to  the  heavens.  "Be  yourself,"  he  said 
sternly ;  "there  is  no  need  for  a  man  to  call  upon  God  to 
witness  a  blood-thirsty  oath.  If  the  woman  is  guilty,  let 
her  be  punished.  But  give  her  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 
Appearances  are  against  her,  I  admit.  All  the  same,  she 
may  be  able  to  prove  her  innocence." 

"You  might  as  well  talk  to  the  wind  as  to  me.  She  is  a 
murderess;  I'll  do  my  best  to  have  her  hanged." 

Morley  spoke  with  such  vehemence  that  Drake  looked 
closely  at  him.  He  wondered  if  the  man  had  any  grudge 
against  Anne  Denham  that  he  spoke  of  her  with  such  bit- 
terness. Certainly  her  crime  was  a  terrible  one,  and  she 
deserved  to  be  condemned.  But  it  would  only  be  fair  that 
she  should  be  first  tried.  Morley,  on  the  contrary,  had 
already  judged  her,  without  waiting  to  hear  what  she  had 
to  say  in  her  own  favor. 

"Well.  Mr.  Morley,  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said,'* 
he  remarked  coldly,  for  he  disliked  this  melodrama;  "we 
must  wait  till  the  police  come  in  the  morning.  Meanwhile 
I  shall  go  to  my  home  and  get  some  sleep." 

"I  can't  sleep  with  that  in  the  house,"  replied  Morley, 
abruptly  rising;   "I'll  go  with  you." 


AFTERWARDS.  53 

"Where?" 

"To  the  churchyard — to  the  grave.  I  intend  to  look 
for  the  weapon.  It  may  have  been  left  there — tossed  aside 
by  the  assassin  after  the  crime." 

"But  the  night  is  dark — the  snow  is  falling.  You  will 
not  be  able  to  do  anything.    Be  advised,  and " 

"No.    I'll  come  with  you  now.    If  I  find  nothing,  it  is 

all  the  better  for  her.    If  I  do "    He  shook  his  hand 

again  fiercely. 

Drake  argued  no  longer,  seeing  that  the  man's  brain 
was  in  such  a  state  that  it  was  best  to  humor  him.  They 
went  out  together,  but  at  the  church-gate  Drake  excused 
himself  and  retired  to  his  home.  He  had  no  wish  to  see 
Morley  groping  amongst  the  graves  like  a  ghost.  Pausing 
until  the  little  man  disappeared  into  the  gloom,  the  rector 
went  to  his  house,  wondering  at  the  sudden  change  in 
Morley's  character.  He  had  been  a  light-hearted  and 
rather  frivolous  creature ;  fond  of  gaiety  and  overflowing 
with  the  milk  of  human  kindness.  Now  he  was  fierce  and 
savage  enough  for  a  Caliban.  "He  must  have  loved  that 
poor  girl  very  dearly,"  sighed  Drake,  "but  I  can't  believe 
that  such  a  charming  woman  as  Miss  Denham  committed 
so  cruel  a  crime.  There  is  some  mystery  about  this,"  and 
in  this  last  speech  he  was  right.  There  was  a  mystery 
about  the  death,  and  a  much  deeper  one  than  a  shallow 
man  like  the  rector  could  fathom. 

All  through  the  long  night  Mrs.  Morley  watched  by 
the  dead.  She  had  placed  candles  on  either  side  of  the 
bed,  and  laid  a  cross  on  the  poor  child's  breast.  Drake 
was  quite  shocked  when  he  saw  this  Papistical  arrange- 
ment. But  it  afterwards  came  out  that  Mrs.  Morley  had 
been  educated  in  a  convent,  and  had  imbibed  certain  no- 
tions of  the  Romish  ritual  for  the  dead  that,  her  memory 
reviving,  made  her  act  thus,  in  spite  of  her  openly  con- 


54  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

fessed  belief  in  the  communion  of  the  EngHsh  Church. 
While  she  was  thus  sitting  and  weeping,  Morley  looked 
in.  He  was  wild  and  haggard,  but  in  his  eyes  glared  a 
triumphant  expression  which  terrified  his  wife.  She  did 
not  dare  to  move.  He  crossed  the  room,  and  looked  at 
the  body.  "You  shall  be  avenged,  my  dear,"  he  said 
solemnly,  and  before  Mrs.  Morley  could  recover  from 
her  surprise  and  denounce  this  ill-chosen  moment  for  a 
visit,  he  wheeled  round  and  disappeared. 

He  did  not  retire  either,  no  more  did  the  servants,  who 
were  collected  in  the  kitchen  steadying  their  nerves  with 
tea.  So  it  happened  that  when  Giles,  weary,  wet,  and 
worn,  rode  up  to  the  door  in  the  morning  on  a  jaded  beast, 
he  was  met  by  Morley. 

"Have  you  caught  her?"  asked  the  man. 

Giles  dismounted  and  threw  the  reins  to  a  groom.  "No. 
Trim  went  one  way  and  I  another.  Where  he  is  I  don't 
know,  but  my  horse  gave  in,  and  I  returned."  He  entered 
the  house.     "Where  is  the  body?"  he  asked. 

"Up  in  the  room  it  occupied  during  life,"  said  Morley; 
"but  come  into  the  library,  I  have  something  to  show 
you." 

Ware  followed  and  sank  wearily  into  a  chair.  He 
could  scarcely  keep  his  eyes  open.  Nevertheless  he 
started  up  wide  awake  when  his  host  spoke.  "Miss  Den- 
ham  killed  Daisy,"  said  Morley.  "She  took  a  stiletto  from 
the  wall  yonder,  and  here  it  is."  He  produced  it  with 
a  dramatic  wave. 

"Where  did  you  find  it?" 

"Beside  the  grave— on  the  spot  of  the  murder." 


CHAPTER  VT 

THE  CASE  AGAINST  ANNE 

THE  contradictory  qualities  of  Mrs.  Parry's  nature 
came  out  strongly  in  connection  with  the  Rickweli 
tragedy.  When  Miss  Denham  was  prosperous  the  old 
woman  had  nothing  but  bad  to  say  of  her,  now  that  she 
was  a  fugitive  and  generally  credited  with  a  crime,  Mrs. 
Parry  stood  up  for  her  stoutly.  She  made  herself  ac- 
quainted with  all  details,  and  delivered  her  verdict  to  Mrs. 
Morley,  on  whom  she  called  for  the  express  purpose  of 
giving  her  opinion. 

"I  never  liked  the  woman,"  she  said  impressively,  "she 
was  artful  and  frivolous ;  and  to  gain  admiration  behaved 
in  a  brazen  way  of  which  I  thoroughly  disapproved.  All 
the  same,  I  do  not  believe  she  killed  the  girl." 

"But  the  evidence  is  strongly  against  her,"  expostu- 
lated Mrs.  Morley. 

"And  how  many  people  have  been  hanged  on  evidence 
which  has  afterwards  been  proved  incorrect?"  retorted 
Mrs.  Parry.  "I  don't  care  how  certain  they  are  of  her 
guilt.  In  my  opinion  she  is  an  innocent  woman.  I  am 
glad  she  has  escaped." 

"I  am  not  sorry  myself,"  sighed  the  other.     "I  was 


56  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  \'II. 

fond  of  Anne,  for  she  had  many  good  points.     But  Mr. 

Steel  says " 

"Who  is  Mr.  Steel?" 

"The  detective  who  has  charge  of  the  case." 
"I  thought  the  police  from  Chelmsford  had  it  in  hand." 
"Of  course,  Mr.  Morlcy  sent  for  the  police  the  morn- 
ing after  poor  Daisy's  death.     That  is  three  days  ago. 
To-morrow  the  inquest  is  to  be  held.     I   suppose  they 
will  bring  a  verdict  against  poor  Miss  Denham." 

"Ha!"  said  Mrs.  Parry,  rubbing  her  nose,  "and  my 
greengrocer  is  on  the  jury.  Much  he  knows  about  the 
matter.  But  this  Steel  creature.  Where  does  he  come 
from?" 

"Mr.  Morley  sent  to  London  for  him.  He  has  a  pri- 
vate inquiry  office,  I  believe." 

"No  such  thing,"  contradicted  Mrs.  Parry,  "he  is  from 
Scotland  Yard.  A  genuine  detective — none  of  your 
makeshifts." 

"I  thought  you  knew  nothing  about  him  ?" 
"Nor  did  I  till  this  minute.  But  I  now  remember  see- 
ing his  name  in  connection  with  the  theft  of  Lady  Sum- 
mersdale's  diamonds.  He  caught  the  thief  in  a  very 
clever  way.  Steel — Martin  Steel,  I  remember  now.  So 
he  has  the  case  in  hand.  Humph !  He  won't  accuse 
Anne  Denham,  you  may  be  sure  of  that.  He's  too 
clever." 

"But  he  is  convinced  of  her  guilt,"  said  the  other  tri- 
umphantly. 

"Then  the  man's  a  fool.  Til  see  him  myself." 
Mrs.  Parry  did  so  the  very  next  day  after  the  inquest 
had  been  held  and  the  verdict  given.  She  possessed  a 
small,  neat  cottage  on  the  outskirts  of  Rickwell,  standing 
some  distance  back  from  the  high  road.  Seated  at  her 
drawing-room  window,  she  could  see  all  those  who  came 


THE  CASE  AGAINST  ANNE  57 

or  went,  and  thus  kept  a  watch  over  the  morals  of  the 
village.  This  window  was  called  "Mrs.  Parry's  e}e," 
and  everyone  sneaked  past  it  in  constant  dread  of  the  ter- 
rible old  lady  who  looked  through  it.  Beyond  Mrs.  Par- 
ry's cottage  were  the  houses  of  the  gentry  and  the  church  ; 
therefore  she  knew  that  Steel  would  pass  her  house  on 
the  way  to  The  Elms,  where  he  would  doubtless  go  to 
report  himself  to  Morley.  To  be  sure  Morley  was  to  be 
at  the  inquest,  but  Mrs.  Parry  took  no  account  of  that. 
He  and  the  detective  would  certainly  return  to  The  Elms 
to  compare  notes. 

I  Also  there  was  another  chance.  Steel  might  go  on  to 
see  Ware  at  his  place,  which  was  a  mile  beyond  the  vil- 
lage. Giles  had  caught  a  cold  after  his  midnight  ride 
and  search  for  the  missing  motor,  and  since  then  had 
been  confined  to  his  bed.  His  deposition  had  been  taken 
down  in  writing,  for  the  benefit  of  the  jury,  as  he  could 
not  be  present  himself.  Since  he  was  deeply  interested 
in  the  matter,  Steel  would  probably  go  and  tell  him  about 
the  inquest.  Mrs.  Parry  therefore  posted  herself  at  the 
window  about  twelve  and  waited  for  the  detective. 

At  half-past  twelve  she  saw  him  come  along,  having  on 
the  previous  day  made  Herself  acquainted  with  his  per- 
sonality. He  was  a  dapper  pert  little  man,  neat  in  his 
dress,  and  suave  in  his  manners.  Not  at  all  like  the  de- 
tective of  fiction  as  known  to  Mrs.  Parry.  There  was  no 
solemnity  or  hint  of  mystery  about  Mr.  Steel.  He  would 
pass  unnoticed  in  a  crowd,  and  no  one  would  take  him 
for  a  bloodhound  of  the  law.  He  did  not  even  possess 
the  indispensable  eagle  eye,  nor  did  he  utter  opinions  with 
the  air  of  an  oracle.  In  fact,  when  Mrs.  Parry  captured 
him  and  lured  him  into  her  parlor,  she  was  exceedingly 
disappointed  with  his  appearance.     "No  one  would  even 


S8  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VIL 

take  you  for  a  detective,"  said  she  brusquely,  whereat 
Steel  laughed  cheerily, 

"All  the  better  for  me,  ma'am.  Folk  speak  more  freely 
when  they  don't  know  my  business.  But  you  will  excuse 
me,"  he  added,  glancing  at  his  watch,  "I  am  in  a  hurry. 
You  say  you  know  something  about  this  matter?" 

It  was  on  this  pretence  that  Mrs.  Parry  had  got  him 
into  her  house,  else  he  would  not  have  wasted  his  time  on 
her.  She  had  therefore  to  make  good  her  words,  but 
had  not  the  slightest  chance  of  doing  so, 

"I  know  that  Anne  Denham  is  innocent,"  was  all  that 
she  could  say,  but  said  it  with  the  air  of  one  who  settles 
a  difficult  matter  once  and  for  all. 

"On  what  grounds,  ma'am  ?" 

"On  no  grounds,  save  those  of  my  own  common  sense." 

"You  have  no  evidence  to ?" 

"I  have  the  evidence  of  my  own  eyes.  You  haven't 
seen  the  woman.  I  have.  She  is  not  the  kind  of  person 
who  would  act  so." 

"The  jury  take  a  different  view,"  said  Steel  dryly. 
"They  have  brought  in  a  verdict  of  wilful  murder  against 
her." 

"Fools !  But  what  can  you  expect  from  a  parcel  of 
tradesmen?  I  wish  to  hear  on  what  grounds  they  made 
such  idiots  of  themselves." 

Steel  was  somewhat  taken  aback  by  this  coolness. 
"You  must  really  excuse  me,"  said  he,  rising,  "but  I  have 
to  see  Mr.  Ware." 

"All  in  good  time,  Steel,"  said  the  old  lady  coolly. 
"You  might  do  worse  than  spend  an  hour  with  me. 
There  is  precious  little  going  on  in  this  parish  I  don't 
know  of.     I  might  be  able  to  help  you  in  your  search." 

"After  this  woman?"  Steel  shook  his  head.  "I  don't 
think  so.    I  expect  she  has  escaped  to  foreign  parts." 


THE  CASE  AGAINST  ANNE  59 

"Oh,  I  know  all  about  that.  I  made  Trim  tell  me.  You 
know  Trim,  of  course.    He  was  a  groom  once."- 

'Tsn't  he  a  groom  now?" 

"Well" — Mrs.  Parry  rubbed  her  nose — "you  might  call 
him  an  engineer.  When  Ware  started  a  motor-car  Trim 
refused  to  let  anyone  else  attend  to  his  young  master  but 
himself.  He  was  the  servant  of  old  Ware,  and  thinks  it  is 
his  duty  to  look  after  the  son — not  but  what  it's  needed," 
added  Mrs.  Parry  spitefully;  "but  Trim  learned  how  to 
work  the  car,  and  so  he  is  what  you  might  call  an  engi- 
neer." 

"All  very  interesting  ma'am,  but  I  have  an  appoint- 
ment." 

"It  will  keep,"  replied  Mrs.  Parry  suavely.  "You  had 
better  wait,  Steel.     I  have  something  to  show  you." 

"In  connection  with  the  case?" 

"In  connection  with  Miss  Denham." 

"What  is  it?    Show  it  to  me." 

"All  in  good  time,  Steel.  I  must  first  know  what  you 
think  of  the  matter." 

"I  think  that  this  woman  is  guilty." 

"Oh,  you  do,  do  you.  Humph!  And  I  thought  you 
clever.  How  easily  one  can  be  deceived !  However,  you 
can  sit  down  and  tell  me  your  grounds  for  this  prepos- 
terous belief." 

Steel  hesitated.  In  all  his  career — and  it  had  been  a 
varied  one — he  had  never  met  before  with  anyone  like 
this  determined  old  dame.  She  took  possession  of  him  in 
the  calmest  way,  and  was  evidently  bent  upon  pumping 
him  dry  before  he  left  the  house.  As  a  rule  Steel  was 
not  a  man  to  be  pumped,  but  after  some  reflection  he  con- 
cluded that  it  was  just  as  well  to  use  a  sprat  to  catch  a 
mackerel.  In  plain  English,  he  determined,  with  reserva- 
tions, to  gratify  ]\Irs.  Parry's  curiosity,  so  that  he  might 


6o  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

get  a  sight  of  what  she  had  to  show  him.  If  he  were 
reticent,  she  would  show  him  nothing;  whereas  if  he  told 
her  all  about  the  evidence  at  the  inquest — and  that  was 
public  property — she  would  certainly  open  her  mind  to 
him.  Moreover,  Steel  knew  the  value  of  having  a  gossip 
like  Mrs.  Parry  to  aid  him  in  gaining  knowledge  of  the 
neighborhood.  Finally,  he  saw  that  she  was  a  shrewd, 
matter-of-fact  old  person,  and  for  the  sake  of  making  his 
work  easy  it  would  be  as  well  to  conciliate  her.  He 
therefore  sat  down  with  a  cheerful  air,  and  prepared  him- 
self for  an  interesting  conversation. 

"I  shall  be  perfectly  candid  with  you,"  said  he,  taking 
out  his  notes.  "These  are  the  memoranda  I  made  at  the 
inquest." 

"Humph!  You  have  a  bad  memory  I  see.  I,"  said 
Mrs.  Parry,  with  emphasis,  "I  carry  all  I  know  in  my 
head.    Go  on." 

Steel  detailed  the  facts  of  the  case.  He  related  the 
threat  of  Anne  against  Daisy  overheard  by  Mrs.  Morley ; 
read  out  a  copy  of  the  anonymous  letter ;  emphasized  the 
presence  of  Anne  in  the  library  for  the  few  minutes  Mor- 
ley was  absent,  when  she  would  have  had  time  to  secure 
the  stiletto;  and  explained  how  Morley  had  found  the 
very  weapon  near  the  scene  of  the  crime.  Then  he  con- 
tinued to  relate  what  took  place  in  church  during  the 
midnight  service. 

"Martha  James,"  said  he,  "was  sitting  not  far  from 
Miss  Kent.     The  comer  was  rather  dark " 

"The  whole  church  is  badly  lighted,"  interniptcd  I\Irs. 
Parry.    "I  never  could  bear  smelly  kerosene  lamps." 

"The  comer  was  dark."  resumed  Steel  patiently,  "and 
Martha,  as  she  says,  having  a  headache,  was  rather  in- 
attentive to  the  sermon.  She  saw  a  man  near  the  door — 
a  tall  man,  with  a  great-coat  and  a  white  scarf.       She 


THE  CASE  AGAINST  ANNE  6l 

couldn't  see  his  face  plainly.  He  slipped  along  the  wall 
during  the  sermon,  when  the  attention  of  everyone  was 
fixed  on  the  preacher,  and — as  jMartha  saw — slipped  a 
scrap  of  paper  into  the  hand  of  Miss  Kent.  She  started, 
and  bending  towards  a  near  lamp,  read  the  paper." 

"Did  anyone  else  see  her  read  it  ?" 

"No.  She  placed  the  paper  in  her  prayer-book,  and  S3 
contrived  to  read  it  without  exciting  suspicion.  Martha 
saw  the  action,  because  she  was  well  placed  for  observa- 
tion." 

"And  couldn't  mind  her  own  business.  I  know  Mar- 
tha James.     Go  on." 

"After  a  few  minutes  Miss  Kent  seemed  to  grow  faint, 
and  slipped  out  of  the  church.  Another  witness — Samuel 
Gibbs — says  that  as  she  brushed  past  him  she  murmured 
that  she  felt  unwell.     However,  she  went  out." 

"And  the  tall  man  also  ?" 

"No.  He  remained  for  another  ten  minutes.  Martha 
James  watched  him,  because  she  could  not  think  why  he 
did  not  follow  IMiss  Kent  after  giving  her  the  paper." 

"Of  course,  iVIartha  thought  of  something  bad,"  sniffed 
Mrs.  Parry;  "no  doubt  she  believed  that  the  two  had 
arranged  to  meet.  So  the  tall  man  went  out  ten  minutes 
afterwards.     What  about  Anne?" 

"She  was  a  few  pews  behind,  and  apparently  inattentive, 
but  a  small  girl  called  Cissy  Jinks " 

"A  most  precocious  child,"  interpolated  the  lady. 

"She  is  smart,"  admitted  Steel.  "Well,  she  declares 
that  IMiss  Denham  was  watching  the  tall  man  all  the  time. 
Whether  she  saw  him  give  the  paper  to  Miss  Kent  no 
one  seems  to  know ;  I  think  myself  she  must  have  done 
so,  if  she  was  as  watchful  as  Cissy  Jinks  declares.  More- 
over, she  followed  the  tall  man  when  he  went  out." 

"Immediately?" 


62  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Five  minutes  afterwards." 

"Ha !  Then  it  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  she  fol- 
lowed Daisy.  Humph  1  Didn't  Trim  see  them  come  out 
of  the  church  ?" 

"The  groom  ?  No,  he  was  at  the  lych-gate  with  the  car, 
and  the  snow  was  falling  fast ;  besides,  the  night  was  so 
dark  that  he  could  see  nothing.  The  first  intimation  he 
had  of  Miss  Denham  was  when  she  came  through  the 
lych-gate  to  tell  him  that  his  master  was  with  Miss  Kent 
on  the  way  to  The  Elms  and  wished  to  see  him.  Trim 
followed,  and  left  her  in  charge  of  the  car.  When  he  was 
gone  she  went  off,  leaving  the  body  of  the  girl  behind  her. 
The  case  is  dead  against  her." 

"As  you  make  it  out,  it  certainly  is,"  said  Mrs.  Parry 
scathingly.  "But  what  about  the  tall  man — what  became 
of  him?" 

"He  has  vanished,  and  no  one  seems  to  know  anything 
about  him." 

"Ha!"  said  the  old  lady,  with  satisfaction  ;  "well,  I  can 
enlighten  you  on  that  point.  He  was  the  man  who  called 
to  see  Mr.  Morley,  and  who  left  just  before  Anne  entered 
the  library." 

"Are  you  sure  Alorley  said  nothing  about  that?" 

"Morley  can  hold  his  tongue  when  necessary,"  said  the 
old  lady  dryly.  "Yes,  that  was  the  man.  The  footman 
at  The  Elms  told  me  that  Mr,  Morley's  visitor  wore  a 
great-coat  and  a  white  scarf." 

"The  same  dress,"  murmured  Steel,  "and  the  man  was 
afterwards  in  church.  He  passed  a  note  and  went  out 
apparently  to  see  Miss  Kent.  I  must  question  Mr.  Mor- 
lev  about  him.  I  wonder  if  he  went  away  in  the  motor 
also." 

"Of  course  he  did,"  replied  Mrs.  Parry  calmly.  "Anne 
was  watching  him,  according  to  Cissy  Jinks,  and  she  fol- 


THE  CASE  AGAINST  ANNE  63 

lowed  him  five  minutes  later.  It  would  seem  that  she 
knew  him,  and  after  he  killed  Daisy  helped  him  to  es- 
cape.' 

"What  do  you  say,"  asked  Steel,  wrinkling  his  brows, 
"that  this  man  killed  Miss  Kent?" 

"The  evidence  is  nearly  as  strong  against  him  as  against 
Anne.  He  was  in  the  library  also  and  might  have  obtamed 
the  stiletto.  It  was  he  who  lured  Daisy  out  of  the  church. 
He  was  five  minutes  absent  before  Anne  followed — quite 
long  enough  for  him  to  kill  the  poor  girl." 

"It  sounds  feasible,  I  admit,"  said  the  detective  thought- 
fully;  "but  even  if  this  is  true,  it  incriminates  Miss  Anne. 
She  helped  him  to  escape,  according  to  your  theory.  She 
must,  therefore,  have  known  about  the  murder,  and  that 
makes  her  an  accessory  after  the  fact.  In  any  case  she 
should  be  arrested." 

"But  not  hanged,"  insisted  IMrs.  Parry.  "I  am  sure 
she  did  not  kill  the  girl.  As  for  the  man,  she  had  a 
strong  reason  to  get  him  out  of  the  way,  but  that  does 
not  say  she  knew  of  the  crime." 

"I  don't  see  what  other  reason  she  could  have  had," 
said  Steel.  "I  daresay  you  are  right,  and  that  this  stran- 
ger did  go  with  Aliss  Denham  on  the  car.  What  a  pity 
no  one  saw  them  !" 

"Did  no  one  see  the  car  ?" 

"No,  it  was  found  overturned  in  a  hedge,  near  Til- 
bury." 

"I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Parry,  not  liking  to  have  her 
omniscience  questioned ;  "Trim  told  me.  He  came  on  the 
car  by  chance.  It  was  quite  cold — the  furnace  was  ex- 
tinguished. It  must  have  been  abandoned  for  some  time 
when  he  came  across  it.  I  wonder  where  the  pair  went 
then." 

"You  seem  certain  that  the  stranger  was  with  Miss 
Denham." 


64  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  \'IL 

"Yes,  I  am  quite  satisfied  on  that  point.  Tilbury — ha ! 
they  were  making  for  Tilbury.     Did  you  inquire  there?" 

Steel  nodded.  "I  could  find  no  trace  of  them.  No  one 
saw  them,  or  rather  her,  for  I  asked  only  after  Miss  Den- 
ham.  It  is  my  opinion  that  they  must  liave  got  on  board 
some  ship,  and  have  escaped  to  foreign  parts.  I  could 
not  learn  of  any  ship  having  left  that  night,  though. 
Well,  that  is  all  the  evidence,  Mrs.  Parry,  and  you  can 
see  for  yourself  that  the  case  against  Miss  Denham  is 
almost  conclusive." 

"All  the  same,  I  believe  she  is  innocent,"  insisted  the 
old  lady ;  "it  was  the  man  who  committed  the  crime.  Ask 
Morley  about  him." 

"Do  you  think  he  knows  anything?" 

"Not  of  the  murder;  but  he  must  know  the  man's 
name.  And  now  as  you  have  been  so  frank  with  me  I'll 
show  you  what  I  promised.  Do  you  remember  the 
anonymous  letter  and  the  reference  to  the  Scarlet  Cross  ?" 

"Yes.  Miss  Denham  said  that  her  father — who  is  now 
dead — wore  a  red-enamelled  cross  on  his  watch-chain." 

"I  know.  Mrs.  Morley  told  me  so.  Now  see  here." 
Mrs.  Parry  opened  her  left  hand,  which  for  some  time  she 
had  kept  clenched.  In  her  palm  lay  a  small  gold  cross 
enamelled  red. 

"Where  did  you  get  that?"  asked  Steel,  astounded. 

"Mrs.  Bates,  the  pew-opener,  found  it  in  the  ciuirch  and 
brought  it  to  me.  It  was  found  near  the  spot  where  the 
stranger  stood." 

"What?"  Steel  started  to  his  feet. 

"Ah,  you  are  beginning  to  see  now !"  said  the  old  lady. 
"Yes,  Steel,  you  may  well  look.  Anne  is  innocent.  On 
the  evidence  of  this  cross  I  believe  that  her  father  is  not 
dead.  He  was  the  stranger ;  he  killed  Daisy,  and  because 
he  was  her  father  Anne  aided  him  to  escape." 


CHAPTER  VII 

OLIVER    MORLEY 

IN  due  time  the  body  of  Daisy  Kent  was  buried.  Her 
remains  were  laid  by  those  of  her  father  in  the  very 
churchyard  about  which  she  had  complained  to  Giles  a 
short  time  before  the  tragedy  of  her  death.  Ware  being 
still  ill,  did  not  attend  the  funeral,  but  a  large  concourse 
of  people  from  all  parts  of  the  county  followed  the  coffin 
to  the  grave. 

Morley  was  the  chief  mourner,  and  looked  haggard,  as 
was  natural.  Poor  Mrs.  Morley  remained  at  home  and 
wept.  She  did  little  else  but  weep  in  those  days,  poor 
soul! 

When  Mr.  Drake  had  finished  the  service,  and  the 
grave  was  filled  up,  the  crowd  dispersed.  There  was  a 
great  deal  of  talk  about  the  untimely  death  of  the  girl  and 
the  chances  of  her  murderess  being  caught.  Everyone 
believed  that  Anne  was  guilty ;  but  as  Steel  had  kept  his 
own  counsel  and  Mrs.  Parry  held  her  tongue,  no  mention 
was  made  of  the  tall  man. 

The  chatter  of  Cissy  Jinks  and  Martha  Gibbs  certainly 
seemed  to  inculpate  him  in  the  matter,  but  only  the  vil- 
lagers talked  of  this  especial  point.  It  never  reached  the 
ears  of  the  reporters,  and  did  not  get  into  the  papers. 


66  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  \II. 

But  the  journals  gave  a  good  deal  of  space  to  the  affair, 
and  hinted  that  it  was  what  the  French  call  "un  crime 
passional."  Still,  no  paper  was  daring  enough  to  hint  at 
Giles  and  his  presumed  connection  with  the  tragedy.  It 
was  merely  stated  that  he  had  been  engaged  to  the  de- 
ceased girl,  and  felt  her  death  so  deeply,  as  was  natural, 
that  he  had  taken  to  his  bed.  Of  course,  this  was  an  em- 
bellishment of  facts,  as  Ware  was  simply  laid  up  with  an 
attack  of  pneumonia.  But  for  the  benefit  of  the  public  the 
journalists  ascribed  it  to  romantic  and  undying  love. 
Giles,  who  was  a  matter-of-fact  young  Englishman,  did 
not  see  these  descriptions,  or  he  would  have  been  much 
disgusted  at  the  sickly  sentimentality. 

Meantime  no  news  was  heard  of  Anne.  It  was  not 
known  that  the  tall  stranger  had  been  with  her,  for  sev- 
eral people  had  seen  the  car  passing  on  its  way  to  Tilbury. 
It  was  a  lucky  thought  that  had  made  Trim  take  that  par- 
ticular direction,  and  merely  by  chance  that  he  had  stum- 
bled on  the  motor  overthrown  in  a  hedge.  Evidently  an 
accident  had  occurred,  but  no  one  was  near  at  the  time, 
as  it  took  place  some  little  distance  from  Tilbury  and  in 
a  lonely  part.  But  it  was  conjectured  that  the  two  occu- 
pants had  preceded  on  foot  to  Tilbury.  A  boatman  was 
found  who  related  that  he  had  taken  a  lady  and  gentle- 
man across  to  Gravesend,  and  that  the  gentleman  walked 
a  trifle  lame.  They  landed  on  the  Gravesend  shore,  and 
here  the  boatman  lost  sight  of  them.  It  was  the  lady  who 
paid  his  fare,  and  he  said  that  she  appeared  to  be  quite 
calm.  He  did  not  see  the  face  of  the  man,  but  described 
that  of  Anne  and  her  dress  also.  There  was  no  doubt 
but  what  she  was  the  fugitive. 

However,  here  the  trail  ended.  Once  in  Gravesend, 
and  all  trace  of  the  pair  was  lost.  Steel  made  inquiries 
everywhere,  but  without  success.     The  two  might  have 


OLIVER  MORLEY  67 

got  away  in  a  ship,  but  this  he  could  not  learn.  The  night 
was  foggy  and  dark,  and  no  ship  had  gone  out  of  the 
river,  according  to  the  boatmen.  Steel  could  discover 
nothing,  and  resolved  to  throw  up  the  case.  But  at  the 
eleventh  hour  he  stumbled  on  a  clue,  and  followed  it  up. 
The  result  of  his  inquiries  made  him  return  at  once  to 
Rickwell,  where  he  sought  out  Mr.  Morley. 

The  Httle  man  had  sent  his  wife  and  family  away  from 
The  Elms,  as  the  atmosphere  of  the  house  was  melancholy 
in  the  extreme.  Mrs.  Morley,  not  averse  to  more  cheerful 
surroundings,  elected  to  go  to  Brighton  with  the  triplets, 
and  took  two  servants  with  her.  Morley  remained  behind 
with  a  reduced  staff,  and  promised  to  join  her  later.  He 
desired  to  wait  until  he  could  see  the  detective.  His  wish- 
was  speedily  gratified,  for  three  days  after  the  departure 
of  his  wife  Steel  made  his  appearance.  Morley  received 
him  in  the  library. 

"How  do  you  do,  sir?"  said  the  detective,  as  they  shook 
hands.    "I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  are  looking  better." 

"I  am  getting  over  the  shock,"  replied  the  other,  "now 
that  the  poor  child  is  buried ;  there  is  no  use  mourning 
further.  I  have  sent  my  wife  and  family  to  Brighton  and 
propose  to  follow  myself  in  a  day  or  so." 

'T  am  lucky  to  have  caught  you,  then  ?" 

"What  ?    Have  you  found  any  clue  ?" 

"I  think  so.     It  is  connected  with  the  Scarlet  Cross." 

Morley,  who  was  warming  his  hands  over  the  fire, 
looked  round  eagerly,  and  his  eyes  flashed. 

"I  thought  there  was  something  in  that  reference.  You 
remember  the  letter,  Steel  ?" 

"Yes.     And  I  showed  it  to  Mrs.  Parry." 

"To  that  meddlesome  old  woman.    Why  ?" 

"It's  too  long  a  matter  to  go  into.  But  it  was  just  as 
well  I  did.    She  gave  me  this  little  ornament." 


68  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

IMorley  turned  over  the  enamelled  cross  and  examined 
it  carefully.  "Humph !  It  is  the  kind  of  thing  Miss  Den- 
ham  said  was  worn  by  her  dead  father.'' 

"Exactly.  Well,  Mr.  Morley,  either  the  father  is  dead 
as  she  told  you  and  that  cross  was  worn  by  a  stranger,  or 
the  man  who  called  to  see  you  here  was  the  father." 

"How  do  you  make  that  out?  What  do  you  mean?" 
said  Morley,  and  his  face  exhibited  genuine  amazement. 

For  answer  Steel  related  what  Mrs.  Parry  had  told  him 
about  the  discovery  of  the  cross,  and  how  she  had  put 
two  and  two  together. 

"And  now,  sir,  you  must  see  that  in  some  way  this 
stranger  is  connected  with  the  crime.  He  called  to  see 
you.    May  I  ask  what  you  know  of  him  ?" 

"Absolutely  nothing,"  replied  the  other  emphatically. 
"Wait !  I  must  show  you  something."  He  rose  and  went 
to  his  desk.  "Of  course,  I  am  telling  you  my  private 
business,"  he  added,  opening  a  drawer,  "so  don't  please 
speak  about  it." 

"If  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  murder  I  won't;  but 
if •• 

"Pshaw !  that  is  all  right,  I  know  as  much  about  these 
things  as  you  do.  However,  we  can  talk  of  that  later. 
Meantime  cast  your  eye  over  that,"  and  he  placed  a  docu- 
ment on  the  table. 

"A  judgment  summons  for  five  hundred  pounds,"  said 
Steel,  with  a  whistle.    "Did  he  serve  this?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Morley,  returning  to  his  seat  with  a 
gloomy  face.  "You  will  see  that  it  is  dated  three  days 
before  he  came  to  me.  I  have  outrun  the  constable,  and 
have  the  greatest  difficulty  in  keeping  my  head  above  wa- 
ter. This  man — I  don't  know  his  name — said  that  he 
came  from  those  solicitors " 

"  'Asher,  Son,  and  Asher,'  "  read  out  the  detective. 


OLIVER  MORLEY.  6sf 

Morley  nodded.  "Of  twenty-two,  St.  Audrey's  Inn.  A 
firm  of  sharpers  I  call  them.  The  money  has  certainly 
been  owing  a  long  time,  but  I  offered  to  pay  off  the  sum 
by  degrees.  They  refused,  and  insist  upon  immediate 
payment.  If  they  would  only  wait  until  the  war  is  over, 
my  South  African  shares  would  go  up  and  there  would 
be  a  chance  of  settling  the  matter.  But  they  will  not  wait. 
I  expect  a  bankruptcy  notice  next." 

"I  am  very  sorry  for  you,  Mr.  ]\Iorley,  and  of  course,  I 
shall  not  betray  the  confidence  you  have  placed  in  me; 
but  the  point  is,  what  is  the  name  of  the  man  who  served 
this?" 

"I  don't  know;  I  never  asked  him  his  name.  He  en- 
tered by  the  front  door  and  served  this  here.  I  sent  him 
out  by  the  window,  so  that  the  servants  should  not  see 
him  again.  He  had  the  look  of  a  sheriff's  officer,  and  one 
can't  be  too  careful  here.  I  believe  Mrs.  Parry  pays  my 
servants  to  tell  her  what  goes  on  in  my  house.  I  didn't 
want  her  to  learn  about  this  summons." 

"I  can  easily  understand  that,"  replied  the  detective; 
"and  I  see  now  why  you  let  the  man  out  by  the  window. 
You  left  the  room  with  him  ?" 

"Yes.  I  didn't  say  anything  much  at  the  inquest  be- 
yond that  he  was  a  visitor,  and  I  was  relieved  when  I 
found  that  no  questions  were  asked.  But  I  walked  with 
him  to  the  end  of  the  terrace  and  saw  him  go  down  the 
avenue.  Then  I  returned  to  this  room,  and  found  Miss 
Denham  waiting  by  the  desk.  I  asked  her  what  she 
wanted.  She  asked  for  her  wages,  as  she  was  leaving  the 
next  day.  I  had  no  ready  money,  and  promised  to  see  to 
it  before  she  departed.  Then  she  went  out.  and  shortly 
afterwards  Miss  Kent  came  in  to  say  she  had  seen  the  man 
go  down  the  avenue.    She  asked  me  who  he  was,  and  I 


yo  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

was  rather  short  with  her,  poor  creature!"  and  Morley 
sighed. 

"I  wonder  why  the  man  went  to  church." 

"I  can't  say  that;  but  I  can  guess  that  when  he  knew 
who  Daisy  was  he  wanted  to  speak  to  her." 

"What  about?"  asked  Steel  eagerly. 

"About  me  and  the  summons.  You  see,  Steel,  there  is 
a  half-uncle  of  Daisy  Kent's  who  went  to  Australia.  He 
said  that  if  he  made  his  fortune  he  would  leave  the 
money  to  her.  Whether  he  is  dead  or  alive  I  don't  know, 
but  certainly  she  did  not  get  any  money  left  to  her. 
Powell's  solicitors  are  Asher,  Son,  and  Asher " 

"Powell?  I  thought  the  uncle  would  be  called  Kent, 
unless,  of  course,  he  was  uncle  by  the  mother's  side." 

"I  said  half-uncle,"  said  Morley  dryly.  "Powell  is  his 
name — William  Powell — and  his  solicitors  are  those  who 
issued  that  judgment  summons.  I  expect  the  clerk  wanted 
to  tell  Daisy  about  my  position  and  warn  her  against 
lending  me  money.  As  though  I  should  have  asked  the 
girl  for  sixpence!" 

"I  don't  see  why  this  clerk  should  warn  Miss  Kent." 

"Well,  you  see,  Daisy  had  a  hundred  a  year,  and  they 
pay  it  to  her.  As  she  might  one  day  be  an  heiress,  I  sup- 
pose they  think  it  as  well  to  keep  an  eye  on  her.  This 
man  could  not  have  known  that  Daisy  was  in  church,  and 
may  have  just  gone  there  to  kill  time.  But  when  he 
saw  her  and  knew  who  she  was,  I  daresay  he  wrote  that 
note  asking  her  to  come  outside  and  be  told  all  about  me." 

"It  might  be  so.    Was  the  note  found  ?" 

"Not  to  my  knowledge.  l>ut  you  should  know,  being 
a  detective." 

"I'm  not  omniscient,"  replied  Steel  good-humoredly ; 
"it  is  only  in  novels  that  you  get  the  perfect  person  who 


OLIVER  MORLEY.  71 

never  makes  a  mistake.  Well,  to  resume.  I  don't  see 
why  the  clerk  should  have  killed  Miss  Kent." 

"He  did  not  kill  her,"  insisted  Morley.  "I  was  in  the 
room  with  him  from  the  time  he  entered  by  the  door  to 
the  time  he  left  by  that  middle  window.  He  had  no 
chance  of  stealing  the  stiletto.  Now  Miss  Denham  had, 
for  she  was  in  the  room  alone  for  a  few  moments." 

"But  why  should  she  have  taken  the  clerk  with  her  on 
the  car?  If  she  killed  the  girl  her  object  must  have  been 
to  escape  herself?" 

"I  can't  explain.  Perhaps  this  clerk  saw  the  crime  and 
hoped  to  make  money  out  of  it.  Had  he  given  the  alarm 
he  wouldn't  have  gained  any  reward.  So  I  suppose  he 
mounted  the  car  with  her,  so  that  she  should  not  escape 
him." 

"A  wild  theory." 

"It's  the  only  one  I  can  think  of,"  responded  Morley; 
"but  if  you  want  to  know  more  of  this  man  go  up  to 
Asher,  Son,  and  Asher.  I  daresay  they  will  be  able  to 
give  you  his  history." 

"And  the  Scarlet  Cross?" 

"I  know  nothing  about  that.  I  did  not  even  notice  if 
the  man  had  such  a  cross  on  his  chain.  In  fact,"  added 
Morley  frankly,  "he  was  too  shabby  and  poverty-stricken 
to  have  a  chain.  I  think  Anne  Denham  killed  Daisy ;  you 
think  this  man  did,  and " 

"Pardon,"  protested  Steel.  "I  have  not  yet  made  up 
my  mind.  But  the  two  fled  together,  and  there  must  be 
some  reason  for  that." 

"If  so,  it  will  be  found  in  the  past  history  of  both,  or 
either.  You  know  where  to  look  for  the  man.  I  can 
get  from  my  wife  the  address  of  the  Governesses'  Insti- 
tute where  she  engaged  Miss  Denham.  That  is  all  I 
can  do,  unless  I  take  up  the  case  myself." 


•^2  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

Steel  looked  up  with  a  laugh.  He  was  copying  the 
address  of  the  solicitors  from  the  summons,  but  could 
not  help  pausing  to  reply  to  this  egotistical  remark. 
"Why,  Mr.  Morley,  what  do  you  know  of  such  work?" 
he  asked,  bantering. 

''Much  more  than  you  would  give  me  credit  for.  Did 
you  ever  hear  of — by  the  way,  this  is  another  of  my 
secrets  I  am  telling  you,  so  please  don't  repeat  it." 

"Are  you  going  to  say  that  you  were  in  the  profession  ?" 

"I  am.    You  may  have  heard  of  Joe  Bart." 

"I  should  think  so,"  said  Steel  quickly.  "He  had  a 
splendid  reputation,  and  was  much  thought  of.  But  he  re- 
tired before  I  came  to  London.  I  was  in  the  country 
police  for  a  long  time.  But" — he  started  up — "you  don't 
mean  to  say  that " 

"That  I  am  Joe  Bart?"  interrupted  Morley,  not  ill- 
pleased.  "Yes,  I  do.  I  retired  over  ten  years  ago,  more 
fool  I.  You  see,  Steel,  I  grew  wearied  of  thief-catching, 
and  as  I  had  a  chance  of  marrying  a  widow  with  money,  I 
took  the  offer  and  retired.  But" — he  looked  at  the  sum- 
mons— "the  game  wasn't  worth  the  candle.  I  have  had 
nothing  but  trouble.  Still,  I  am  devoted  to  my  wife  and 
her  children." 

"And  you  have  forgotten  your  former  glory,"  said  Steel 
enthusiastically;  "surely  not.  That  Hatton  Garden  jewel 
robbery,  the  man  with  the  red  coat  who  committed  the 
Lichfield  murder,  and " 

"I  remember  them  all,"  said  Morley,  with  gentle  melan- 
choly. "I  have  a  full  report  of  all  the  cases  I  was  en- 
gaged in  yonder" — he  nodded  to  a  distant  shelf.  "Some- 
times I  take  those  volumes  down  and  think  what  an  ass 
I  was  to  retire." 

"But  see  here,  Mr.  Morley.  You  are  hard  up;  you 
want  money.    I  am  sure  they  would  be  glad  to  have  you 


OLIVER  MORLEY.  73 

back  at  the  Yard.  Why  not  recommence  your  detective 
life  with  searching  out  this  case?" 

Morley,  late  Joe  Bart,  shook  his  head.  "There  is  no 
difficulty  about  this  case  to  tempt  me,"  he  said.  "Anne 
Denham  killed  the  girl.  But  I  must  say  I  should  like  to 
find  out  about  this  clerk,  and  why  he  went  off  with  her. 
Still,  it  is  useless  for  me  to  become  a  detective  again.  In 
the  first  place  my  wife  would  not  like  it,  and  in  the  sec- 
ond I  have  lost  my  keen  scent.  I  am  rusty — I  am  laid  on 
the  shelf.  No,  no,  Steel,  you  look  after  this  matter  your- 
self. Any  advice  I  can  give  you  I  shall,  but  don't  tempt 
the  old  dog  out  of  his  kennel." 

Steel  looked  admiringly  at  his  host.  Bart  had  been  a 
celebrated  detective  in  his  day,  although  not  one  of  the 
best.  Still,  he  had  made  a  reputation  on  two  or  three 
cases,  which  entitled  him  to  respect.  "I  should  be  proud 
to  work  with  you,  Mr.  Morley." 

"Well,  well,"  said  Morley,  rather  pleased,  "we'll  see. 
At  present  I  must  put  my  wits  to  work  to  get  money  to 
prevent  my  being  made  a  bankrupt.  Now  don't  give  me 
away,  Steel." 

"I'll  say  nothing.  I  suppose  yor-  wife  knows  that  you 
were " 

"Of  course.  But  she  made  me  promise  to  give  it  up. 
Therefore  you  see  I  can't  take  up  the  life  again.  But  my 
advice  to  you — if  you  care  to  take  it — is  to  look  after  the 
governess,  and  leave  the  clerk  alone.  She  is  guilty;  he 
is  not." 

"I'll  look  after  both,"  said  Steel  firmly,  "after  both  Mr. 
—Bart." 

Morley  laughed.  "Report  to  me  all  you  do,"  he  said, 
and  this  Steel  willingly  promised. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  IRONY  OF  FATE 

GILES  was  slowly  recovering  from  his  illness,  but  as 
yet  was  unable  to  leave  his  room.  It  was  now 
over  a  month  since  the  death  of  Daisy,  and  during  that 
time  all  matters  connected  therewith  had  been  reported 
to  the  invalid.  Thus  he  knew  of  the  funeral,  of  the  ver- 
dict of  the  jur>',  and  of  the  search  that  was  being  made 
for  Anne.  Trim,  who  nursed  his  young  master — and  he 
would  not  allow  any  one  else  to  do  so — day  by  day,  re- 
lated all  that  was  taking  place.  The  man  himself  quite 
believed  that  Miss  Denham  was  guilty,  but  he  did  not 
offer  this  opinion  to  Ware,  knowing  how  keenly  Giles  felt 
the  untoward  tragedy. 

The  young  squire  could  not  bring  himself  to  believe  that 
Anne  was  guilty.  Appearances  were  against  her,  and  he 
could  not  conceive  what  excuse  she  could  make  for  her 
flight  with  the  lawyer's  clerk.  If  she  were  innocent,  she 
had  gone  the  best  way  to  work  up  a  feasible  case  against 
her.  But  Giles  was  so  deeply  in  love  with  her  that  the 
blacker  became  her  character  in  the  mouths  of  the  gen- 
eral public,  the  more  persistently  he  held  to  the  belief 
that  it  was  whiter  than  snow.  Had  he  been  able  he 
would  have  followed  her,  in  order  to  persuade  her  to 


THE  IRONY  OF  FATE  75 

return  and  face  the  worst  with  a  frank  story  of  the  events 
of  that  terrible  night.  But  he  was  chained  to  his  bed, 
and  even  had  he  been  sufficiently  well,  he  could  not  have 
traced  her  whereabouts.  Steel  had  called  to  explain  his 
doings,  but  not  even  he  could  guess  where  Anne  was  to 
be  found.    And  Giles  rejoiced  that  this  should  be  so. 

"What's  the  news  this  morning,  Trim?"  he  asked  lan- 
guidly. 

"Mr.  Morley  has  come  to  see  you,  sir.  He  is  waiting 
below." 

'T  thought  he  had  gone  to  Brighton  with  his  wife  and 
family  ?" 

"He  did  go  some  days  back,"  assented  Trim,  "but  he 
returned,  sir — so  he  says — especially  to  see  you." 

"How  very  good  of  him !    Ask  him  to  come  up." 

"Are  you  strong  enough,  Master  Giles  ?" 

"Yes,  you  old  tyrant.  I  hope  to  be  up  and  about  in  a 
week." 

Trim  shook  his  grey  head.  He  was  rather  a  pessimist, 
and  did  not  believe  in  too  sudden  recoveries,  insisting 
that  such  did  not  last. 

"You'll  have  a  relapse,  sir,  and  be  worse  than  ever." 

Ware  laughed,  knowing  Trim's  ways,  and  motioned 
him  out  of  the  room.  When  the  old  servant  left,  grum- 
bling that  his  master  should  be  disturbed,  Giles  began 
to  wonder  what  had  brought  Morley  back  from  Brighton. 
Perhaps  he  had  come  to  speak  of  Daisy  and  her  untimely 
end ;  but  he  had  already,  on  a  previous  occasion,  said  all 
that  was  to  be  said  about  that  matter.  Ware  sincerely 
mourned  Daisy,  for  in  a  way  he  had  been  fond  of  her. 
Still,  he  could  not  but  confess  that  a  marriage  between 
them  would  have  been  a  mistake,  and  that  drastic  as  was 
the  cutting  of  the  Gordian  knot,  it  relieved  him  from  an 
impossible  position.     His  love  for  Anne  would  always 


76  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

have  stood  between  himself  and  the  unfortunate  girl,  and 
her  jealousy  would  have  ruined  both  their  lives.  Certain- 
ly he  saw  no  chance  of  making  Anne  his  wife,  seeing  that 
she  was  a  fugitive  and  accused  of  a  terrible  crime. 
Nevertheless,  since  he  had  not  to  marry  Daisy,  the  situa- 
tion was  less  difficult.  But  Ware,  his  heart  aching  for 
the  woman  he  loved,  found  cold  comfort  in  this  reasoning. 

Morley  entered,  looking  ruddy  and  cheerful,  quite  his 
old  self,  in  fact.  Evidently  the  sea  air  and  the  change 
had  assuaged  his  grief  to  a  considerable  extent,  and  Giles 
could  not  help  remarking  cynically  on  his  quick  recovery. 
"I  thought  you  were  fond  of  Daisy,"  he  said  reproach- 
fully. 

"I  was,  and  so  was  my  wife,"  answered  Morley,  taking 
a  seat  beside  the  bed.  "But  what's  done  can't  be  undone, 
and  I  have  been  trying  to  get  over  my  sorrow.  But  in 
spite  of  my  looks,  Ware,  I  have  my  bad  moments.  And 
you?" 

"I  sincerely  mourn  for  the  poor  girl.  It  is  terrible  that 
she  should  be  cut  off  so  suddenly.  But  I  am  just  as 
sorry  for  Miss  Denham,  if  not  more  sorry.  It  is  those 
who  are  left  behind  that  suffer  most,  Morley." 

"HumpH !"  said  the  little  man  thoughtfully,  "then  you 
did  love  Miss  Denham?" 

"Morley" — Giles  started  up  on  his  elbow — "what  do 
you  mean?" 

"I  am  simply  repeating  what  Daisy  said." 

"She  had  a  monomania  on  the  subject,"  said  Ware  un- 
easily.    "I  never  gave  her  any  cause  for  jealousy." 

"Would  you  have  married  her  had  she  lived  ?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Ware  coldly.  "I  promised  my  father 
that  the  daughter  of  his  old  friend  should  be  my  wife." 

"I  am  sure  you  would  have  acted  honorably,"  said  Mor- 
ley gravely,  "but  it  is  just  as  well  that  you  did  not  marry 


THE  IRONY  OF  FATE  ^^ 

the  girl.  I  think  she  had  some  reason  to  be  jealous  of 
Miss  Denham." 

Ware  groaned.     "I  tried  my  best  to "     He  broke 

off  with  a  frown.  "This  is  my  private  business,  Morley. 
You  have  no  right  to  pry  into  these  things." 

Morley  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "As  you  please.  I 
shall  say  no  more.  But  I  don't  expect  you'll  see  Miss 
Denham  again." 

"I  don't  expect  I  shall.  Please  leave  her  name  out  of 
this  conversation." 

"For  the  moment  I  am  agreeable  to  do  so.  But  as  I 
believe  her  to  be  guilty,  I  must  ask  you  a  question  or 
two." 

'T  shall  answer  no  questions,"  responded  Giles  vio- 
lently.    "Miss  Denham  is  innocent." 

"Then  why  did  she  fly?" 

"I  don't  know.  If  I  can  only  find  her,  I  shall  ask  her 
to  come  back  and  face  the  worst.     She  can  explain." 

"She  will  have  to  when  she  is  caught.  How  do  you 
propose  to  find  her,  Ware  ?" 

"I  don't  know.     Wait  till  I  am  on  my  feet  again." 

"Well,"  said  Morley  cheerfully,  "I'll  give  you  a  clue 
— the  Scarlet  Cross." 

"Rubbish!  There's  nothing  in  that  in  spite  of  the 
anonymous  letter.  What  do  you  know  about  the  matter  ?" 

"Only  what  Steel  told  me.  He  found  a  boatman  at 
Gravesend  who  declared  that  on  the  day  of  the  crime — 
Steel  gave  him  the  date — a  small  steam  yacht  was  lying 
in  the  river  off  the  town.  It  was  called  The  Red  Cross. 
The  next  morning  it  was  gone.  The  night  was  foggy, 
and  no  one  saw  it  leave  its  moorings.  It  simply  van- 
ished.    What  do  you  make  of  that,  Ware?" 

"Nothing  at  all.  What  has  this  yacht  to  do  with  Miss 
Denham  ?" 


78  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Can't  you  see?  Tlie  anonymous  letter  referred  to  a 
Scarlet  Cross.  Such  an  ornament  was  picked  up  in  the 
church,  and  the  boat  was  called " 

"Thv  Red  Cross — not  The  Scarlet  Cross,"  interrupted 
Ware. 

"Only  a  difference  of  shade,"  said  Morley  ironically. 
"But  I  am  certain  that  Miss  Denham  with  her  companion 
went  on  board  that  yacht.  I  can't  think  how  else  they 
escaped." 

"Why  should  this  lawyer's  clerk  have  gone  on  board  ?" 

"That's  what  Steel  is  trying  to  fiiid  out.  I  expect  he 
will  make  inquiries  of  Asher,  Son,  and  Asher's  office. 
But  the  name  of  the  yacht,  the  fact  that  Miss  Denham 
made  for  Gravesend,  where  it  was  lying,  and  its  appear- 
ance and  disappearance  within  twenty-four  hours  during 
which  the  crime  was  committed  shows  me  that  she  fled 
and  that  she  is  guilty." 

Ware  restrained  himself  with  a  violent  effort.  "Oh," 
he  said  ironically,  "then  you  believe  that  Miss  Denham 
arranged  that  the  yacht  should  be  at  Gravesend,  ready 
for  her  flight,  after  the  death  of  Daisy." 

"It  looks  like  that,"  assented  Morley.  "I  believe  my- 
self that  the  crime  was  premeditated." 

"And  was  the  fact  of  my  car  being  at  the  church  gate 
premeditated?"  asked  Ware  angrily. 

"Why  not?  Miss  Denham  knew  that  your  car  was 
coming  for  you  after  the  service." 

"Morley,  I  admit  that  things  look  black,  but  she  is  not 
guilty." 

"Humph  !     You  love  her." 

"That  has  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"As  you  will.  Let  us  say  no  more  on  the  subject.  I 
wish  to  tell  you  why  I  came." 

"It  is  sure  to  be  a  more  disagreeable  subject,"  retorted 


THE  IRONY  of:  FATE  79 

Giles ;  then  felt  compunction  for  the  rude  speech.  "I  beg 
your  pardon,  IMorley,  I  am  a  perfect  bear.  But  this  ill- 
ness has  made  me  peevish,  and  the  events  of  the  last  few 
weeks  have  rendered  my  brain  irritable.  Forgive  my  bad 
temper." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right.  Ware,"  repHed  his  visitor  heartily. 
"I  can  always  make  allowances  for  invalids.  You'll  be 
your  old  self  again  shortly." 

"I  shall  never  be  myself  again,"  replied  Giles  gloomily. 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  Morley's  tongue  to  make  some  fresh 
reference  to  Anne.  But  he  knew  that  such  a  remark 
would  only  exasperate  the  invalid;  and,  moreover,  Giles 
looked  so  ill  and  worried  that  IMorley  generously  re- 
frained from  adding  to  his  troubles.  "Let  us  come  to 
business,"  he  said,  taking  some  papers  out  of  his  breast 
coat-pocket.  "Since  you  were  engaged  to  Daisy  I  thought 
it  right  that  you  should  be  made  aware  of  a  communica- 
tion I  have  received  from  Asher,  Son,  and  Asher." 

"About  the  summons  you  told  me  of?"  asked  Ware 
wearily.  He  did  not  take  much  interest  in  Morley's  af- 
fairs. 

"No.  I  have  managed  to  compromise  that.  The  so- 
licitors have  accepted  payment  in  instalments.  In  this 
instance  they  write  to  me  officially  as  Daisy's  guardian. 
She  has  come  into  five  thousand  a  year,  Ware." 

Giles  opened  his  eyes  and  sat  up  in  bed  excitedly. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  her  half-uncle  Powell  is 
dead?" 

jMorley  nodded.  "Very  ironical,  isn't  it?"  he  said. 
"She  was  always  talking  and  hoping  for  the  money,  and 
now  when  it  comes  she  is  unable  to  enjoy  it.  What  tricks 
Fate  plays  us  to  be  sure !" 

"Poor  girl  Y'  sighed  Giles ;  "how  often  have  we  dis- 
cussed the  prospect  of  her  being  an  heiress !     I  always 


8o  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

told  her  that  I  had  enough  for  both,  but  she  hankered 
after  having  money  in  her  own  right." 

"Look  at  the  papers,"  said  Morley,  handing  them  to 
the  young  man,  "and  you  will  see  that  Powell  died  over 
four  months  ago  in  Sydney.  His  solicitors  arranged 
about  the  estate  in  the  colony  of  New  South  Wales,  and 
then  communicated  with  Asher  as  Powell  had  advised 
them  before  he  died.     There  is  a  copy  of  the  will  there." 

"So  I  see.  But  tell  me  the  chief  points  in  it,  I  feel 
too  tired  to  wade  through  all  this  legal  matter." 

"W^ell,  the  money  was  left  to  Daisy,  and  failing  her  it 
goes  to  a  man  called  George  Franklin." 

"H'm !  He  has  come  in  for  his  kingdom  very  speedily, 
thanks  to  the  death  of  poor  Daisy.     Who  is  he  ?" 

Morley  glanced  at  a  letter.  "He  was  the  brother-in- 
law  of  Mr.  Powell — married  Powell's  sister  who  is  dead. 
I  don't  know  if  there  is  any  family.  Asher's  firm  doesn't 
know  the  whereabouts  of  Franklin,  but  they  are  adver- 
tising for  him.  The  five  thousand  a  year  goes  to  him 
without  reservation." 

"Why  did  they  tell  you  all  this?" 

"I  really  can't  say,  unless  it  is  because  I  was  Daisy's 
legal  guardian.  I  wish  she  had  come  in  for  this  money, 
Ware,  for  I  do  not  say  but  what  I  shouldn't  have  been 
glad  of  a  trifle.  And  if  Daisy  had  lived  she  would  have 
paid  me  something.  Certainly  as  I  did  what  I  did  do  out 
of  sheer  friendship  with  her  father,  I  have  no  right  to  de- 
mand anything,  but  when  Franklin  hears  \)i  my  circum- 
stances I  hope  he  will  lend  me  some  money  to  get  me  out 
of  my  difficulties." 

"It  all  depends  upon  the  kind  of  man  he  turns  out  to  be. 
But  I  always  thought,  Morley,  that  it  was  your  wife  to 
whom  Kent  left  his  daughter.  She  was  an  old  friend  of 
his." 


THE  IRONY  OF  FATE.  8l 

"Quite  so;  but  Kent  appointed  me  guardian,  as  Mrs. 
Morley  refused  to  be  legally  bound.  I  am  sure  I  did  my 
duty,"  added  the  little  man,  with  sudden  heat. 

"I  am  sure  you  did.  You  behaved  like  a  father  to  her, 
and  I  am  sorry  she  did  not  live  to  repay  you."  Giles 
thought  for  a  moment  or  so,  then  added,  'T  was  engaged 
to  Daisy,  and  I  am  rich.     Let  me  help  you,  Morley." 

"No,  thanks.  It  is  good  of  you  to  suggest  such  a  thing, 
but  I  am  a  very  independent  man.  If  this  Franklin  will 
do  anything,  I  don't  mind  accepting  a  thousand  from 
him;  otherwise — no,  Ware." 

Giles  admired  the  bluft  way  in  which  Morley  said  this. 
He  knew  well  that  for  a  long  time  Morley  and  his  wife 
had  done  all  they  could  for  Daisy  Kent,  and  that  both 
of  them  deserved  great  praise.     He  suggested  that  Mrs. 

Morley  might  be  induced 

"No,"  interrupted  his  visitor,  "my  wife  wants  nothing. 
She  has  her  own  money,  and  ample  means." 
"Then  why  don't  you  ask  for  her  help?" 
"My  dear  Ware,  I  married  Mrs.  Morley  because  I  loved 
her,  and  not  for  her  money.     All  her  property  is  settled 
on  herself,  and  I  have  not  touched  one  shilling  of  it.     She 
would  willingly  help  me,  but  I  have  refused." 
"Isn't  that  rather  quixotic  on  your  part?" 
"Perhaps,"  responded  Morley,  with  some  dryness ;  "but 
it  is  my  nature.     However,  I  see  that  I  am  tiring  you. 
I  only  came  to  tell  you  of  this  irony  of  fate,  whereby 
Daisy  inherited  a  fortune  too  late  to  benefit  by  it.     I  must 
go  now.     My  wife  expects  me  back  in  Brighton  to-mor- 
row." 

"When  do  you  return  to  The  Elms?" 
"In  a  month.     And  what  are  your  movements?" 
Ware  thought  for  a  few  minutes  before  he  answered. 
At  length  he  spoke  seriously. 


82  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Morley,  I  know  you  arc  prejudiced  against  Miss  Den- 
ham." 

"I  think  she  is  gnjilty,  if  that  is  what  you  mean,  Ware." 

"And  I  say  that  she  is  innocent.  I  intend  to  devote 
myself  to  finding  lier  and  to  clearing  up  this  mystery." 

"Well,  I  wish  you  good  luck,"  said  Morley,  moving 
towards  the  door;  "but  don't  tell  me  when  you  find  Miss 
Dcnham.     If  I  come  across  her  I'll  have  her  arrested." 

"That's  plain  enough.  Well,  since  you  are  her  de- 
clared enemy,  I  shall  keep  my  own  counsel."  He  raised 
himself  on  his  elbow.  "But  I  tell  you,  Morley,  that  I 
shall  find  her.  I  shall  prove  her  innocence,  and  I  shall 
make  her  my  wife." 

Morley  opened  the  door. 

"The  age  of  miracles  is  past,"  he  said.  "When  you 
are  more  yourself,  you  will  be  wiser.  Good-bye,  and  a 
speedy  recovery." 

As  the  visitor  departed  Trim  entered  with  the  letters. 
He  was  not  at  all  pleased  to  find  Giles  so  flushed,  and 
refused  to  hand  over  the  correspondence.  Only  when 
Ware  began  to  grow  seriously  angry  did  Trim  give  way. 
He  went  grumbling  out  of  the  room  as  Giles  opened  his 
letters.  The  first  two  were  from  friends  in  town  asking 
after  his  health;  the  third  had  a  French  stamp  and  the 
Paris  postmark.  Ware  opened  it  listlessly.  He  then  ut- 
tered an  exclamation.  On  a  sheet  of  thin  foreign  paper 
was  the  drawing  in  pencil  of  a  half-sovereign  of  Edward 
VII.,  and  thereon  three  circles  placed  in  a  triangle,  marked 
respectively  "A,"  "D,"  and  "P."  Below,  in  a  handwrit- 
ing he  knew  only  too  well,  was  written  the  one  word 
"Innocent." 

"Anne,  Anne!"  cried  Ware,  passionately  kissing  the 
letter,  "as  though  I  needed  you  to  tell  me  that !" 

And  it  was  not  till  an  hour  later  that  he  suddenlv  re- 


THE  IRONY  OF  FATE.  83 

membered  what  a  narrow  escape  he  had  had  from  putting 
Morley  on  the  track  of  Anne  Denham.     Had  Morley  seen 

that  letter ? 

"Paris,"  murmured  Giles,  'Til  go  there." 


CHAPTER  IX 

A   STRANGE  DISCOVERY 

THE  offices  of  Asher,  Son,  and  Asher  were  situated 
in  a  dark,  narrow  street  in  the  City,  which  led  down 
to  the  river.  In  former  days  the  place  might  have  been 
respectable,  and  then  the  original  Asher  had  set  up  his 
official  tent  in  the  neighborhood;  but  civilization  had 
moved  westward,  and  Terry  Street  was  looked  on  askance 
by  fashionable  solicitors.  Nevertheless  the  firm  of  Asher 
continued  to  dwell  in  the  dingy  office,  where  their  pro- 
genitors had  slaved  for  close  on  a  hundred  years.  It  was 
quite  good  enough,  thought  the  present  head  of  the  firm, 
for  such  well-known  lawyers. 

The  firm  did  a  good  old-fashioned  business,  eminently 
respectable  and  safe.  None  of  the  three  partners  was  a 
sharper,  as  Morley  asserted ;  but  as  the  firm  had  issued  a 
judgment  summons  against  the  master  of  The  Elms,  he 
could  scarcely  be  expected  to  think  well  of  them.  Old 
Mr.  Asher  rarely  came  to  the  office,  preferring  his  coun- 
try house  and  melon  beds,  and  the  business  was  conducted 
by  the  son  and  the  other  Asher,  who  was  a  cousin.  Both 
these  gentlemen  were  over  forly,  and  in  spite  of  a  modem 
education    were    decidedly    old-fashioned.       There    was 


A  STRANGE  DISCOVERY  85 

something  in  the  musty  air  of  the  Terry  Street  office 
that  petrified  them  into  old  men  before  their  due  time. 
The  three  clerks  who  sat  in  the  outer  rooms  were  also 
elderly,  and  the  sole  youthful  creature  about  the  place 
was  the  office  boy,  a  red-haired  imp  who  answered  to 
the  name  of  Alexander.  His  surname  was  Benker,  but 
was  not  thought  sufficiently  dignified  for  use  in  so  sedate 
a  place  of  business. 

With  some  difficulty  Steel  found  this  musty  haunt  of 
the  legal  Muse,  and  sent  up  his  name  to  the  senior  part- 
ner with  a  request  for  an  interview.  Alexander,  whistling 
between  his  teeth,  led  him  into  a  frowzy  apartment  lined 
with  books  and  tin  boxes,  and  furnished  with  a  green 
baize-covered  table  heaped  with  legal  papers,  three  chairs, 
and  a  mahogany  sofa  of  the  Early  Victorian  period.  Mr. 
Asher,  the  son,  might  have  belonged  to  the  same  epoch, 
in  spite  of  his  age,  so  rusty  and  smug  did  he  look.  His 
face  was  clean-shaven  with  the  exception  of  side-whiskers ; 
his  hair  was  thin  on  the  top  and  sparse  on  the  sides,  and 
he  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of  solemn  black,  with  a  satin  tie 
to  match.  In  fact,  he  was  the  typical  lawyer  of  melo- 
drama, and  Steel  was  surprised  to  find  so  ancient  a  sur- 
vival in  these  modem  days.  But  when  they  began  to 
talk  Asher  proved  to  be  quite  able  to  hold  his  own,  and 
was  not  at  all  fossiUzed  in  brain,  whatever  he  might  be 
in  appearance.  He  knew  not  only  the  name  of  Steel,  but 
all  about  the  case  and  Steel's  connection  therewith.  He 
referred  in  feeling  terms  to  Daisy's  death. 

"A  very  charming  girl,  Mr.  Steel,"  said  the  young- 
old  lawyer.  "On  several  occasions  she  has  been  here  to 
draw  her  little  income.  It  is  sad  that  she  should  have  met 
with  her  death  at  the  hands  of  a  jealous  woman  at  the 
very  time  she  was  about  to  enjoy  a  legacy  of  five  thou- 
sand a  year." 


86  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"You  don't  say  so!"  cried  Steel,  who  had  heard  noth- 
ing of  this. 

"Ah!  Mr.  Morley  never  informed  you  of  the  fact." 

"Well,  no,  he  didn't ;  but  then,  I  have  not  seen  him 
for  over  a  week.  I  believe  he  is  at  Brighton  with  his 
wife.     Who  left  this  money  to  the  late  Miss  Kent  ?" 

"A  relative  of  hers  who  died  lately  in  Australia." 

"And  failing  her  who  inherits?" 

Mr.  Asher  reflected.  "I  don't  know  that  you  have  any 
right  to  ask  that  question,"  he  said,  after  a  pause. 

"Pardon  me."  replied  the  detective.  "Miss  Kent  was 
murdered.  I  fancied  that  the  money  might  have  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  commission  of  the  crime." 

"No,  Mr.  Steel.  I  read  the  evidence  given  at  the  in- 
quest. Jealousy  was  the  motive  of  the  crime,  and  Miss 
Denham  is  guilty." 

"I  am  somewhat  of  that  way  of  thinking  myself,  jMr. 
Asher.  And  on  the  face  of  it  there  is  no  other  way  of 
accounting  for  the  murder.  Nevertheless  it  is  just  as 
well  to  look  at  the  matter  from  all  sides.  The  crime  may 
be  connected  with  the  question  of  this  fortune.  You  may 
as  well  tell  me  what  I  wish  to  know.  I'll  keep  my  mouth 
closed." 

"Are  you  going  to  accuse  our  client  of  the  crime?" 
asked  Asher  dryly.  "I  fear  you  will  waste  your  time  if 
you  do.  Since  you  look  at  the  matter  in  this  way,  I  don't 
mind  speaking  about  what  after  all  is  not  your  business." 

"That  is  as  it  may  be,"  returned  Steel  enigmatically. 

Asher  passed  this  remark  over.  "Failing  Miss  Kent, 
the  five  thousand  a  year  goes  to  George  Franklin,  a 
brother-in-law  of  the  testator.  We  lately  received  a  let- 
ter from  him,  informing  us  that  he  intended  to  claim  the 
money." 

"How  did  he  know  that  he  would  inherit?" 


A  STRANGE  DISCOVERY  87 

"We  advertised  for  him.  He  is  quite  unaware  of  the 
death  of  Miss  Kent,  and  I  daresay  thinks  Mr.  Powell  left 
the  fortune  to  him  direct," 

"You  can't  be  certain  of  his  ignorance.  However,  let 
us  give  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt.  Where  did  he  write 
from  ?" 

"From  Florence,  in  Italy,  where  he  has  lived  for  four 
years.  He  will  be  in  London  next  week,  and  if  you  want 
to  see  him " 

"I'll  think  of  it,"  interrupted  Steel.  "There  may  be  no 
need  to  trouble  Mr.  Franklin.  At  present  I  am  searching 
for  this  clerk  of  yours,  who  went  off  with  Miss  Denham." 

The  lawyer  raised  his  eyebrows  with  manifest  sur- 
prise. "A  clerk  of  ours,  Mr.  Steel?  I  don't  quite  fol- 
low you." 

"I  refer  to  the  man  who  served  a  judgment  summons 
on  Mr.  Morley." 

"A  boy  served  that,"  explained  Asher.  "The  boy  who 
showed  you  in." 

Steel  stared  hard  at  the  solicitor,  trying  to  understand 
why  he  had  made  such  a  statement.  "But  that  is  ab- 
surd," he  remarked.  "I  know  that  nothing  was  said  at 
the  inquest  about  the  matter,  as  Mr.  Morley  did  not  wish 
it  to  be  kno\\Ti  that  he  was  in  such  difficulties.  But  a 
tall  man,  with  a  reddish  beard,  dressed  in  a  great-coat, 
with  a  white  scarf,  served  the  summons.  Afterwards  he 
went  to  the  midnight  service  in  the  parish  church,  and 
lured  Miss  Kent  outside  by  means  of  a  note,  which  we 
cannot  find.  From  what  I  have  gathered  this  man  went 
with  Miss  Denham  in  Mr.  Ware's  motor-car.  He  fled 
with  her,  and  I  fancy  he  must  be  either  the  assassin  or 
an  accessory  after  the  fact." 

Asher  heard  all  this  with  extreme  surprise.  When 
Steel  concluded  he  touched  the  bell.     Alexander  respond- 


88  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

ed  with  his  usual  cheerful  and  impudent  air.  His  master 
addressed  him  with  some  severity.  "What  about  that 
summons  which  was  served  by  you  on  Mr.  Morley,  of 
Rickwell?"  he  demanded. 

The  lad  g^rew  crimson  to  his  ears,  and  looked  at  the 
floor  much  embarrassed.  *T  served  it  all  right,  sir,"  he 
mumbled. 

''You  served  it,"  struck  in  Steel,  with  emphasis.  "That 
is  quite  untrue.     A  tall  man  with  a  red  beard  served  it." 

"Alexander,  tell  the  truth.     What  does  this  mean?" 

The  boy  began  to  sob,  and  drew  his  coat-sleeve  across 
his  eye  with  a  snuffle.  "I  thought  it  was  all  right,"  he 
said,  "or  I  should  not  have  given  it  to  him." 

"The  summons  !     You  gave  it  to  someone  to  serve  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.     To  Mr.  Wilson,  mother's  lodger." 

"Is  he  tall?  Has  he  a  pale  face  and  a  red  beard?" 
asked  Steel. 

"He  has,  sir.  He's  been  with  mother  six  months,  and 
was  always  kind.  When  I  got  the  summons  he  said  that 
he  was  going  into  the  country,  and  would  serve  it  on  Mr. 
Morley." 

"Alexander,"  said  Asher  in  an  awful  tone,  "I  gave  you 
money  for  your  railway  fare  to  go  to  Rickwell.  What 
have  you  done  with  that  money,  wretched  boy?" 

"I  went  to  the  Hippodrome  with  another  boy,"  wept 
Alexander.  "I  thought  as  I'd  take  the  holiday,  as  you'd 
think  I  was  in  the  country.  Please,  sir,  I'm  very  sorry, 
but  I  thought  Mr.  Wilson  was  all  right." 

"Did  Mr.  Wilson  come  back  to  say  that  all  was  right?" 
demanded  Steel  sharply. 

"No,  sir,  he  didn't.  Mother  and  I  ain't  set  eyes  on 
him  since  he  went  away  to  serve  the  summons.  I  was 
afraid  to  tell  you,  sir,"  he  added  to  his  master,  "  'cause 


A  STRANGE  DISCOVERY  89 

I  knew  I'd  done  wrong.     But  I  hope  you  won't  be  hard 
on  me,  sir." 

"Alexander,"  said  Mr.  Asher,  "you  have  disgraced  a 
most  respectable  office,  and  can  no  longer  continue  in  it. 
You  have  spent  money,  you  have  wasted  time,  both  given 
to  you  for  a  certain  purpose.  For  the  sake  of  your 
mother,  who  is  a  hard-working  woman,  I  shall  not  take 
any  legal  steps.  But  from  this  day  you  cease  to  be  in 
our  employment.  Your  wages  for  the  week  shall  be  con- 
fiscated, since  you  have  made  free  with  my  money.  At 
five  to-day,  Alexander,  you  leave  this  place  forever." 

"Oh,  sir — please,  sir — I  didn't " 

"Alexander,  I  have  spoken.  You  can  depart." 
With  a  howl  the  boy  went  out  of  the  room,  and  sat 
weeping  in  the  outer  office  for  at  least  ten  minutes.  He 
was  wondering  what  he  should  say  to  his  mother,  for  she 
was  a  terrible  woman,  with  a  short  temper  and  a  hard 
hand.  His  fellow-clerks  demanded  what  was  the  matter, 
but  Alexander  had  sense  enough  to  keep  his  own  counsel. 
All  he  said  was  that  the  governor  had  discharged  him, 
and  then  he  wept  afresh. 

While  thus  employed  Steel  made  his  appearance.  He 
had  been  discussing  the  matter  with  Asher,  and  had  pro- 
posed a  course  of  action  in  connection  with  the  delinquent 
to  which  Asher  agreed.  He  advanced  to  the  weeping 
Alexander  and  lifted  him  from  his  seat  by  the  collar. 

"Come,  young  man,"  said  he,  "take  me  home  to  your 
mother  at  once." 

"Oh,  Lor',"  cried  Alexander,  "she'll  give  me  beans !" 
"You  deserve  the  worst  beating  she  can  give  you,"  said 
Steel  severely,  while  the  clerks  grinned.     "However,  you 
must  come  with  me.     Where  do  you  live  ?" 

"Warder  Street,  Lambeth,"  snuffled  Alexander,  and 


90  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

urged  by  the  hand  on  liis  collar,  went  out  of  the  office 
with  the  detective. 

"We'll  take  a  hansom,"  said  Steel,  and  shortly  was 
ensconced  in  one  with  the  miserable  Alexander. 

As  a  rule  a  ride  in  a  hansom  would  have  been  a  joy 
to  Master  Benker,  but  he  was  too  much  afraid  of  the 
meeting  with  his  mother  to  take  any  pleasure  in  the  treat. 
However,  he  relied  on  the  promise  of  the  detective  that 
he  would  sooth  the  maternal  ire,  and  managed  to  reply 
fairly  well  to  the  questions  Steel  asked.  These  referred 
to  Mr.  Wilson. 

"Who  is  he?"  demanded  the  detective. 

"Mother's  lodger,"  replied  Alexander;  "he's  been  with 
her  six  months,  and  mother  thought  a  deal  of  him.  He 
was  kind  to  me." 

"Ah!     Was  he  well  off?" 

"I  don't  knew.  He  paid  his  rent  regular,  but  he  wore 
shabby  clothes,  and  was  always  out.  I  only  saw  him  at 
night  when  I  came  home  from  the  office." 

"Did  he  ask  you  many  questions  about  the  office?" 

"Oh,  yes.  He  said  he  wished  me  to  get  on — that  I  was 
a  smart  boy,  and  a  credit  to  my  mother." 

"So  you  are,"  answered  Steel  genially.  "I'm  sure 
she'll  give  you  a  proof  of  her  approval  to-day.  Now  don't 
cry,  boy."  Steel  shook  Alexander,  and  then  demanded 
.suddenly,  "You  copy  all  the  letters,  do  you  not  ?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  answered  Master  Benker,  wondering  why 
this  was  asked. 

"And  you  read  them  sometimes?" 

"Nearly  always.  I  like  to  know  what's  going  on. 
Mr.  Wilson  said  I  should  make  myself  acquainted  with 
everything."' 

"I'm  sure  he  did,"  muttered  Steel  ironically.  "Did  you 
read  any  letter  saying  that  Miss  Kent  had  inherited  a 


A  STRANGE  DISCOVERY  91 

fortune?  Miss  Daisy  Kent,  who  lived  with  Mr.  Mor- 
ley  at  Rickwell  ?" 

Alexander  thought  for  a  moment.  "Yes,  I  did.  It 
was  a  letter  to  some  lawyers  in  Sydney." 

"Did  you  tell  Mr.  Wilson  about  it?" 

"Yes,  sir.  He  was  always  talking  about  people  coming 
in  for  money,  and  I  said  that  a  girl  called  Miss  Kent  had 
come  in  for  five  thousand  a  year." 

"I  thought  so.     When  did  you  tell  Mr.  Wilson  this  ?" 

"Three  days  after  Christmas." 

"Before  he  offered  to  serve  the  summons?" 

"Why,  I  hadn't  got  the  summons  then,"  said  Alexander. 
"Mr.  Asher  gave  it  to  me  the  day  before  New  Year.  I 
said  I  was  going  into  the  country  to  Rickwell,  for  Mr. 
Wilson  asked  me  what  I  was  making  myself  smart  for. 
He  said  he'd  take  the  summons,  and  that  I  could  go  to 
the  Hippodrome  with  Jim  Tyler." 

"Which  you  did  on  your  employer's  money.  You  are 
a  smart  lad,  Alexander.     What  did  your  mother  say  ?" 

"Mother  was  out  when  I  came  home  with  the  summons, 
and  after  Mr.  Wilson  said  he'd  take  it  I  didn't  say  any- 
thing to  her." 

"Then  she  thought  that  on  the  day  before  the  New 
Year  you  were  at  the  office  as  usual?" 

"Yes,"  snuffled  iMaster  Benker,  "she  did.  Oh,  Lor' !" 
as  the  cab  stopped  before  a  tidy  house  in  a  quiet  street, 
"here  we  are." 

"And  there  is  your  mother,"  said  the  detective  cheer- 
fully, as  a  severe  face  appeared  at  the  white-curtained 
window. 

Alexander  wept  afresh  as  Steel  paid  the  cabman,  and 
positively  howled  when  the  door  opened  and  his  mother 
— a  lean  woman  in  a  black  dress,  with  a  widow's  cap — ap- 


92  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

peared.  He  would  have  run  away  but  that  Steel  again 
had  a  hand  on  his  collar. 

"Alexander,"  cried  his  mother  harshly,  "what  have  you 
been  doing?" 

"Nothing  very  dreadful,  ma'am,"  interposed  Steel. 
"It  will  be  all  right.  Let  me  in,  and  I'll  speak  for  my 
young  friend." 

"And  who  may  you  be,  sir?"  demanded  Mrs.  Benker, 
bristling. 

"A  personal  friend  of  Mr.  Asher's." 

On  hearing  this  dreaded  name  Mrs.  Benker  softened, 
and  welcomed  Steel  into  a  neat  parlor,  where  he  seated 
himself  in  a  horsehair  mahogany  chair  of  the  most  slip- 
pery description  and  related  what  had  happened.  Alex- 
ander stood  by  and  wept  all  the  time.  He  wept  more 
when  his  mother  spoke. 

"I  expected  it,"  she  said  in  quiet  despair;  "that  boy  is 
the  bane  of  my  life.  I'll  speak  to  you  shortly,  Alexander. 
Go  to  your  room  and  retire  to  bed.'' 

"Oh,  mother !  mother !"  cried  Master  Benker,  writhing 
at  the  prospect  of  a  thorough  whipping. 

"Go  to  your  room,  Alexander,  and  make  ready,"  re- 
peated the  widow,  with  a  glare,  and  the  boy  retired  slow- 
ly, wriggling  and  snuffling.  When  his  sobs  died  away 
and  an  upstairs  door  was  heard  to  close  with  a  bang,  Mrs. 
Benker  addressed  herself  to  Steel. 

"I  hope  you  will  induce  Mr.  Asher  to  overlook  this," 
she  said,  clasping  a  pair  of  lean,  mittened  hands;  "I  am 
so  poor." 

"I'll  do  my  best,"  responded  Steel ;  "that  is,  if  you  will 
give  me  some  information  about  your  late  lodger,  Mr. 
Wilson." 

"Why  should  I  do  that?"  asked  Mrs.  Benker  suspi- 
ciously. 


A  STRANGE  DISCOVERY  93 

"Because  Mr.  Asher  wishes  to  know  all  about  him. 
You  see,  your  son  allowed  Air.  Wilson  to  serve  this  sum- 
mons, and  it  is  necessary  that  Mr.  Asher  should  learn 
where  he  is." 

"That's  only  fair;  but  I  don't  know.  Mr.  Wilson  has 
not  returned  here  since  he  left  on  the  day  before  New 
Year." 

"Did  he  leave  any  luggage  behind  him  ?" 

"No,  sir,  he  didn't."  Mrs.  Benker  paused,  then  con- 
tinued, "I'll  tell  you  exactly  how  it  occurred,  if  Mr.  Asher 
will  make  some  allowance  for  the  wickedness  of  that 
wretched  boy  of  mine." 

"I'll  see  what  can  be  done,  and  use  my  influence  with 
Mr.  Asher." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  wndow  gratefully.  "Well, 
sir,  I  was  absent  all  the  last  day  of  the  year,  as  I  was  see- 
ing a  married  daughter  of  mine  in  Marylebone.  Mr. 
Wilson  was  in  the  house  when  I  left  at  ten  in  the  morn- 
ing, but  said  nothing  about  going  away.  When  I  re- 
turned at  six  in  the  evening  I  found  that  he  was  gone 
bag  and  baggage,  and  that  he  had  left  his  rent  on  the 
table.  Also  a  note  saying  that  he  was  suddenly  called 
away  and  would  not  return." 

"Have  you  the  note?"  asked  Steel,  thinking  it  just  as 
well  to  have  some  specimen  of  Wilson's  handwriting. 

Mrs.  Benker  shook  her  head.  "I  burnt  it,"  she  replied  ; 
"it  was  only  written  in  pencil  and  not  worth  keeping.  I 
must  say  that  Mr.  Wilson  always  behaved  like  a  gentle- 
man, although  I  saw  little  of  him.  He  was  queer  in  his 
habits." 

"How  do  you  mean — 'queer'?" 

"Well,  sir,  I  hardly  ever  saw  him  in  the  daytime,  and 
when  I  did  he  usually  kept  his  blinds  down  in  his  room, 
as  he  suffered  from  weak  eyes.     Even  when  he  saw  Alex- 


94  A  COIX  OF  EDWARD  \II. 

andcr  in  the  evening  he  would  hardly  have  any  light. 
Then  sometimes  he  would  lie  in  bed  all  the  day,  and  be 
out  all  the  night.  At  other  times  he  would  stay  at  home 
the  whole  of  the  twenty-four  hours.  But  he  always  paid 
his  rent  regularly,  and  gave  little  trouble  over  his  food. 
Yes,"  added  Mrs.  Benkcr,  smoothing  her  apron.  "]\Ir. 
Wilson  was  always  a  gentleman.     I  will  say  that.'' 

"Humph !"  thought  Steel,  taking  all  this  in  eagerly. 
"A  queer  kind  of  gentleman,"  he  added  aloud.  "Did  you 
know  anything  else  about  him,  Mrs.  Benker?" 

"No,  sir."  She  drew  herself  up  primly.  "I  never  pry 
— never." 

"Did  any  one  call  to  see  Mr,  Wilson?" 

"No  one.  All  the  time  he  was  here  not  one  person 
called." 

"Did  he  receive  any  letters?" 

"No.     Not  one  letter  arrived." 

"Queer,"  murmured  Steel.  "What  newspaper  did  he 
take?" 

"The  Morning  Post.  Also  he  took  the  World,  Truth, 
Modern  Society,  and  M.  A.  P.  He  was  fond  of  the  fash- 
ionable intelligence." 

"Oh,  he  was,  was  he?  Would  you  have  called  him  a 
gentleman  ?'' 

"He  always  paid  his  rent  duly,"  hesitated  Mrs.  Benker, 
"so  far  he  was  a  perfect  gentleman.  But  I  have  lived  as 
a  lady's  maid  in  the  best  families,  sir,  and  I  don't  think 
Mr.  Wilson  was  what  you  or  I  would  call  an  aristocrat." 

"I  see.  So  you  were  a  lady's  maid  once.  In  what 
families?" 

Mrs.  Benker  was  not  at  all  averse  to  relating  her  better 
days,  and  did  so  with  pride.  "I  was  with  the  Countess 
of  Flint,  with  Mrs.  Harwitch,  and  with  Lady  Susan  Sum- 
mersdale." 


A  STRANGE  DISCOVERY  95 

"Ha!"  said  Steel,  starting.  He  remembered  that  ]Mor- 
ley  had  been  concerned  with  Lady  Summersdale  about 
the  robbery  of  her  jewels.  "Did  you  tell  Mr.  Wilson 
this?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  yes.  We  had  long  talks  about  aristocratic  fam- 
ilies." 

She  repeated  several  tales  she  had  told  Wilson,  and 
Steel  asked  her  many  questions.  When  he  took  his  leave 
he  asked  a  leading  one :  "Did  Mr.  Wilson  wear  a  red 
cross  as  an  ornament?" 

"On  his  watch-chain  he  did,"  said  Mrs.  Benker,  and 
Steel  departed  very  satisfied  with  his  day's  work. 


CHAPTER  X 

ON   A   FRESH   TRAIL 

IF  Giles  Ware  had  not  been  desperately  in  love  and  des- 
perately anxious  to  find  Anne  Denham,  he  would 
scarcely  have  gone  to  Paris  on  such  a  wild-goose  chase. 
The  postmark  on  the  letter  showed  that  she  was,  or  she 
had  been,  in  the  French  capital ;  but  to  find  her  in  that 
immense  city  was  like  looking  for  a  haystack  in  a  league- 
long  desert.  However,  Ware  had  an  idea — foolish 
enough — that  some  instinct  would  guide  him  to  her  side, 
and,  therefore,  as  soon  as  he  recovered  sufficiently  to 
travel  he  crossed  the  Channel  with  Trim.  He  left  Rick- 
well  about  three  weeks  after  his  interview  with  Morley. 
Time  enough,  as  he  well  knew,  for  Anne  to  change  her 
place  of  residence.     But  he  trusted  to  luck. 

For  quite  a  fortnight  he  explored  the  city,  accompanied 
by  the  faithful  old  servant.  Trim  had  sharp  eyes,  and 
would  be  certain  to  recognize  Anne  if  she  came  within 
eyesight.  But  in  spite  of  their  vigilance  and  observa- 
tion, the  two  saw  no  one  even  distantly  resembling  Anne. 
Certainly  if  Giles  had  gone  to  the  authorities,  who  take 
note  of  all  who  come  and  go,  he  might  have  been  more 
successful.  But  knowing  that  Anne  was  wanted  by  the 
English  police,  he  did  not  dare  to  adopt  this  method.     He 


ON  A  FRESH  TRAIL  97 

was  forced  to  rely  entirely  on  himself,  and  his  search  re- 
sulted in  nothing. 

"It  ain't  no  good,  Master  Giles,"  said  Trim  for  at  least 
the  tenth  time;  "we've  lost  the  scent  somehow-  Better 
go  back  to  London,  I  don't  want  you  to  be  ill  over  here, 
sir,  with  nothing  but  foreign  doctors  to  look  after  you." 

"I  shan't  leave  Paris  until  I  am  certain  that  she  is  not 
in  the  place,"  declared  Ware  resolutely. 

"Well,  sir,  I  don't  know  how  much  more  certain  you 
wants  to  be.  We've  tramped  them  bullyvardes  and 
Chamy  Elizas  till  our  feet  are  near  dropping  ofif.  You're 
looking  a  shadow.  Master  Giles,  if  you'll  excuse  an  old 
man  as  nursed  you  when  you  were  a  baby.  She  ain't  here. 
Now  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  she  were  in  London,"  said 
Trim  wisely. 

"What,  in  the  very  jaws  of  the  lion?     Nonsense!" 

"Oh,  but  is  it,  sir?  I  always  heard  it  said  by  them  as 
knows  that  the  jaws  of  the  lion  is  the  very  last  place  any 
one  expects  to  find  them."  Trim  did  not  state  what 
"them"  he  meant.  "If  she  went  back  to  Rickwell  she 
would  be  safe,  especially  if  she  laid  up  in  some  cottage 
and  called  herself  a  widder." 

"Trim,  you've  been  reading  detective  novels !" 

"Not  me,  sir;  I  ain't  got  no  time.  But  about  this  go- 
ing back " 

"We'll  go  back  to-morrow.  Trim,"  said  Ware,  with 
sudden  resolution.     And  Trim  joyfully  departed  to  pack. 

It  just  struck  Giles  that  after  all  Trim  might  be  right, 
and  that  having  thrown  the  police  off  the  scent  by  going 
abroad  in  the  yacht,  Anne  might  return  to  London.  She 
might  be  there  now,  living  in  some  quiet  suburb,  while 
the  police  were  wasting  their  time  corresponding  with  the 
French  authorities.  Moreover,  Ware  thought  it  would 
be  just  as  well  to  learn  what  Steel  was  doing.    He  had 


98  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

charge  of  the  case  and  might  have  struck  the  trail.  In 
that  case  Giles  wanted  to  know,  for  he  could  then  avert 
any  possible  danger  from  Anne.  And  finally  he  rellected 
that  he  might  learn  something  about  Anne's  friends  from 
th'e  people  at  the  Governesses'  Institute  where  Mrs.  Mor- 
ley  had  engaged  her.  If  she  returned  to  London  it  was 
not  impossible  that  she  might  have  gone  to  hide  in  the 
house  of  some  friend.  Any  one  who  knew  Anne  could 
be  certain  that  she  was  not  guilty  of  the  crime  she  was 
accused  of,  and  would  assuredly  aid  her  to  escape  the  un- 
just law.  So  thought  Giles  in  his  ardor;  but  he  quite 
forgot  that  every  one  was  not  in  love  with  Anne,  and 
would  scarcly  help  her  unless  they  were  fully  convinced 
of  her  innocence,  and  perhaps  not  even  then.  Most  peo- 
ple have  a  holy  horror  of  the  law,  and  are  not  anxious 
to  help  those  in  danger  of  the  long  arm  of  justice. 

However,  Giles  reasoned  as  above  and  forthwith  left 
Paris  for  London.  He  took  up  his  quarters  in  the  Guelph 
Hotel,  opposite  the  Park,  and  began  his  search  for  Anne 
again.  Luckily  he  had  obtained  from  Mrs.  Morley  the 
number  of  the  Institute,  which  was  in  South  Kensington, 
and  the  day  after  his  arrival  walked  there  to  make  in- 
quiries. It  was  a  very  forlorn  hope,  but  Ware  saw  no 
other  chance  of  achieving  his  desire. 

The  Institute  was  a  tall  red-brick  house,  with  green 
blinds  and  a  prim,  tidy  look.  He  w'as  shown  into  a  prim 
parlor  and  interviewed  by  a  prim  old  lady,  who  wore 
spectacles  and  had  a  pencil  stuffed  in  the  bosom  of  her 
black  gown.  However,  she  was  less  prim  than  she 
looked,  and  had  a  cheerful  old  ruddy  face  with  a  twinkling 
pair  of  kindly  eyes.  In  her  heart  Mrs.  Cairns  admired 
this  handsome  young  man  who  spoke  so  politely,  and  was 
more  willing  to  afford  him  the  desired  information  than 
if  he  had  been  elderly  and  ugly.     Old  as  she  was,  the 


ON  A  FRESH  TRAIL  99 

good  lady  was  a  true  daughter  of  Eve,  and  her  natural 
liking  for  the  opposite  sex  had  not  been  crushed  out  of  her 
by  years  of  education.  Nevertheless  when  she  heard  the 
name  of  Anne  she  threw  up  her  hands  in  dismay. 

"Why  do  you  come  here  to  ask  about  that  unfortunate 
girl?"  she  demanded,  and  looked  severely  at  Giles.  Be- 
fore he  could  reply  she  glanced  again  at  his  card,  which 
she  held  in  her  fingers,  and  started.  "Giles  Ware,"  she 
read,  drawing  a  quick  breath.     "Are  you " 

"I  was  engaged  to  the  young  lady  who  was  killed,"  said 
Ware,  surprised. 

j\Irs.  Cairns'  rosy  face  became  a  deep  red.  "And  you 
doubtless  wish  to  avenge  her  death  by  finding  Miss  Den- 
ham?" 

"On  the  contrary,  I  wish  to  save  Miss  Denham." 

"What!  do  you  not  believe  her  guilty?" 

"No,  Mrs.  Cairns,  I  do  not.  Every  one  says  she  killed 
the  girl,  but  I  am  certain  that  she  is  an  innocent  woman. 
I  come  to  ask  you  if  you  can  tell  me  where  she  is." 

"Why  do  you  come  to  me?"  Mrs.  Cairns  went  to  see 
that  the  door  was  closed  before  she  asked  this  question. 

"I  thought  you  might  know  of  her  whereabouts." 

"Why  should  I?" 

"Well,  I  admit  that  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
— at  least,  I  thought  so  before  I  came  here." 

"And  now?"     She  bent  forward  eagerly. 

"Now  I  think  that  if  she  had  come  to  you  for  refuge 
she  would  get  help  from  you.  I  can  see  that  you  also 
believe  her  guiltless." 

"I  do,"  said  Airs.  Cairns  in  a  low  voice.  "I  have  known 
Anne  for  years  and  I  am  certain  that  she  is  not  the  wom- 
an to  do  a  thing  like  this.     She  would  not  harm  a  fly." 

"Then  you  can  help  me.     You  know  where  she  is?" 

Mrs.  Cairns  looked  at  his  flushed  face,  at  the  light  in 


100  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

his  eyes.  In  her  shrewd  way  she  guessed  the  secret  of 
this  eagerness.  "Then  you  love  her,"  she  said  under  her 
breath.     *'You  love  Anne." 

"Why  do  you  say  that?"  asked  Giles,  taken  aback.  He 
was  not  prepared  to  find  that  she  could  read  him  so  easily. 

"I  remember,"  said  Mrs.  Cairns  to  herself,  but  loud 
enough  for  him  to  hear,  "there  was  a  Society  paper  said 
something  about  jealousy  being  the  motive  of  the  crime, 
and " 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  such  a  statement  was  in  the 
papers?"  asked  Ware  angrily,  and  with  a  flash  of  his 
blue  eyes. 

"It  was  in  none  of  the  big  daily  papers,  Mr.  Ware. 
They  offered  no  explanation.  But  some  Society  reporter 
went  down  to  Rickwell ;  to  gather  scandal  from  the  ser- 
vants, I  suppose." 

"Off  from  Mrs.  Parry,"  muttered  Giles;  then  aloud, 
''Yes?" 

"Well,  this  man  or  woman — most  probably  it  was  a 
woman — made  up  a  very  pretty  tale,  which  was  printed 
in  The  fircHy." 

"A  scandalous  paper,"  said  Ware,  annoyed.  "What 
did  it  say?" 

"That  you  were  in  love  with  Anne,  that  you  were  en- 
gaged to  Miss  Kent,  and  that  to  gain  you  as  her  hus- 
band Anne  killed  the  girl." 

"It's  a  foul  lie.  I'll  horsewhip  the  editor  and  make 
him  put  in  an  apology." 

"I  shouldn't  do  that  if  I  were  you,  Mr.  Ware."  said 
the  old  lady  dryly.  "Better  let  sleeping  dogs  lie.  I  don't 
believe  the  whole  story  myself — only  part  of  it." 

"What  part.  Mrs.  Cairns?" 

"That  part  which  says  you  love  Anne.  I  can  see  it  in 
your  face." 


ON  A  FRESH  TRAIL  loi 


"If  I  can  trust  you " 

"Certainly  you  can.  Anne  is  like  my  own  child.  I  be- 
lieve her  guiltless  of  this  terrible  crime,  and  I  would  do 
anything  to  see  her  righted.     She  did  not  kill  the  girl." 

"No,  I  believe  the  girl  was  killed  by  a  nameless  man 
who  came  to  Rickwell  from  some  firm  of  solicitors.  I 
don't  know  why  he  murdered  the  poor  child,  no  more 
than  I  can  understand  why  Anne  should  have  helped  him 
to  escape." 

"You  call  her  Anne,"  said  Mrs.  Cairns  softly. 

Giles  flushed  through  the  tan  of  his  strong  face. 

"I  have  no  right  to  do  so,"  he  said.  "She  never  gave 
me  permission.  Mrs.  Cairns,  I  assure  you  that  there  was 
no  understanding  between  Miss  Denham  and  myself.  I 
was  engaged  by  my  father  to  Miss  Kent,  and  we  were 
to  be  married.  I  fell  in  love  with  Miss  Denham,  and  I 
have  reason  to  believe  that  she  returned  my  love." 

"She  told  you  so?" 

"No,  no !  She  and  I  never  said  words  like  that  to  one 
another.  We  were  friends ;  nothing  more.  Miss  Kent 
chose  to  be  jealous  of  a  trifling  gift  I  gave  Miss  Den- 
ham at  Christmas,  and  there  was  trouble.  Then  came 
an  anonymous  letter,  saying  that  Anne  wished  to  kill 
Daisy." 

"A  letter,  and  said  that?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cairns  in 
surprise.  "But  I  can't  understand  it  at  all.  Anne  had 
no  enemies,  so  far  as  I  know.  No  one  could  hate  so  sweet 
a  girl.     Her  father " 

"Did  you  know  her  father  ?"  asked  Ware  quickly. 

"No;  but  she  often  spoke  of  him.  She  was  fond  of 
her  father,  although  he  seems  to  have  been  a  wandering 
Bohemian.    He  died  at  Florence." 

"I  wonder  if  he  really  did  die." 

"Of  course.     He — but  it's  a  long  story,  Mr.  Ware,  and 


I02  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

I  have  not  the  time  to  tell  it  to  you.  Besides,  there  is 
one  who  can  tell  you  all  about  Anne  and  her  father  much 
better  than  I  can.  The  Princess  Karacsay.  Do  you 
know  her?" 

"I  have  seen  the  name  somewhere." 

"Probably  on  a  programme,"  said  Mrs.  Cairns  com- 
posedly. "Oh,  don't  look  so  astonished.  The  Princess 
is  really  a  Hungarian  aristocrat.  She  quarrelled  with 
her  people,  and  came  to  England  with  very  little  money. 
To  keep  herself  alive  she  tried  to  become  a  governess. 
Afterwards,  having  a  beautiful  voice,  she  became  a  con- 
cert singer.     I  hear  she  is  very  popular." 

"How  should  she  know  about  Anne — I  mean  Miss  Den- 
ham  ?" 

"Because  if  there  is  any  woman  to  whom  Anne  would 
go  in  her  distress,  it  would  be  the  Princess.  She  met 
Anne  here  while  she  was  a  governess,  and  the  two  be- 
came great  friends.  They  were  always  together.  I  do 
not  know  where  Anne  is,  Mr.  Ware.  She  did  not  come 
to  me,  nor  has  she  written;  but  if  she  is  in  England  the 
Princess  will  know." 

"Do  you  think  she  would  tell  me?"  asked  Giles  eagerly. 

"I  really  don't  know.  She  is  romantic,  and  if  she 
learned  that  you  loved  Anne  she  might  be  inclined  to  lielp 
you.  But  that  would  depend  upon  Anne  herself.  How 
is  she  disposed  towards  you?" 

For  answer  Giles  related  the  episode  of  the  foreign 
letter,  with  the  drawing  of  the  coin  and  the  one  word 
"Innocent."     Mrs.  Cairns  listened  quietly,  and  nodded. 

"Evidently  Anne  values  your  good  opinion.  I  think 
you  had  better  tell  all  this  to  the  Princess."  She  hastily 
wrote  a  few  lines.     "This  is  her  address." 

"Oh.  thank  you !     Thank  you  !" 

"And,  Mr.  Ware,"  added  the  old  lady,  laying  a  kind 


ON  A  FRESH  TRAIL  103 

hand  on  his  arm,  "if  you  hear  about  Anne,  come  and  tell 
me.  I  hope  with  all  my  soul  that  you  will  be  able  to  save 
the  poor  child." 

"If  human  aid  can  prove  her  innocence,  you  can  depend 
upon  me,"  was  Ware's  reply.  And  taking  leave  of  Mrs. 
Cairns,  he  left  the  Institute  with  his  heart  beating  and  his 
head  in  the  air. 

Giles  was  glad  that  his  good  fortune  had  led  him  to 
meet  this  true  friend  of  the  woman  he  loved.  He  was 
also  glad  that  he  had  been  so  open  with  her  about  his 
passion,  else  she  might  not  have  sent  him  to  the  Prin- 
cess Karacsay.  As  the  name  came  into  his  mind  he 
glanced  down  at  the  paper,  which  he  still  held.  The  ad- 
dress of  Anne's  friend  was  "42,  Gilbert  Mansions,  West- 
minster." Giles  resolved  to  lose  no  time  in  looking  her 
up.  She  would  be  able  to  tell  him  where  Anne  was,  and 
also  might  be  able  to  explain  the  mystery  of  Anne's  life 
in  general,  and  her  conduct  at  Rickwell  in  particular. 

For  there  was  some  mystery  about  Miss  Denham. 
W^are  v.as  quite  certain  on  that  point.  She  had  said  that 
her  father  was  dead,  and  circumstances  pointed  to  the 
fact  that  her  father  was  alive  and  was  the  nameless  man 
who  had  appeared  and  disappeared  so  suddenly.  Then 
there  was  the  strange  episode  of  the  anonymous  letter, 
and  the  queer  reference  therein  to  the  Scarlet  Cross. 
Also  the  fact  that  the  yacht  in  which  Anne  had  fled  was 
called  The  Red  Cross.  All  these  things  hinted  at  a  mys- 
tery, and  such  might  in  some  indirect  way  be  connected 
with  the  death  of  Daisy  Kent.  Anne  had  not  killed  her ; 
but  since  she  had  aided  the  murderer  to  escape  she  must 
have  condoned  the  crime  in  some  w^ay.  Ware  shuddered 
as  he  looked  at  the  matter  in  this  light.  What  if  Anne 
knew  something  about  the  matter  after  all?  The  next 
moment  he  put  the  thought  from  him  wath  anger.     Anne 


I04  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

was  good  and  pure,  and  her  hands  were  clean  from  the 
stain  of  blood.  Such  a  woman  would  not — could  not 
commit  a  crime  either  directly  or  indirectly.  When  he 
saw  her  he  would  ask  for  an  explanation,  and  once  she 
opened  her  mouth  all  would  be  made  plain. 

Arguing  thus  with  himself,  Giles  wrote  a  letter  to  the 
Princess  Karacsay  and  asked  for  an  interview.  He  men- 
tioned that  he  had  seen  Mrs.  Cairns  and  that  the  old  lady 
had  furnished  him  with  the  address.  Also,  he  said  that 
his  wish  in  seeing  the  Princess  was  to  ask  for  the  where- 
abouts of  Miss  Denham.  Having  despatched  this  note, 
Giles  felt  that  he  could  do  no  more  until  he  received  a 
reply. 

But  he  was  too  restless  to  remain  quiet.  It  occurred 
to  him  that  he  might  look  up  Steel  and  learn  what  fresh 
discoveries  had  been  made  in  connection  with  the  Rickwell 
crime.  He  went  to  New  Scotland  Yard  and  asked  for  the 
detective,  but  learned  to  his  surprise  and  vexation  that 
the  man  was  out  of  town  and  was  not  expected  back  for 
a  week.  No  one  could  say  where  he  had  gone,  so  Giles 
had  to  satisfy  himself  with  leaving  a  card  and  promising 
to  call  again. 

The  next  day  he  received  a  note  from  the  Princess 
Karacsay  asking  him  to  come  the  next  evening  at  nine 
o'clock.  She  said  nothing  about  Anne,  nor  did  she  vol- 
unteer any  information.  She  simply  appointed  an  hour 
and  a  place  for  the  interview  and  signed  herself  Olga 
Karacsay.  Giles  felt  that  she  had  been  intentionally  curt, 
and  wondered  if  she  intended  to  give  him  a  civil  recep- 
tion. After  some  thought  he  decided  that  she  meant  to 
be  kind,  although  the  note  read  so  coldly.  He  would  go, 
and  perhaps  during  the  interview  she  might  be  persuaded 
to  help  him.  After  all,  she  must  know  that  he  had  been 
engaged  to  marry  the  dead  girl,  and  fancied — as  Mrs. 


ON  A  FRESH  TRAIL  105 

Cairns  had  done — that  he  wished  to  have  Anne  arrested. 

The  following  evening  he  arrayed  himself  with  par- 
ticular care  and  drove  in  a  hansom  to  Westminster.  The 
cab  stopped  before  a  great  pile  of  brick  buildings  near  the 
Abbey,  and  when  Giles  had  dismissed  it  he  entered  a  large 
and  well-lighted  hall  with  a  tesselated  pavement.  Here 
a  porter  volunteered,  on  ascertaining  his  business,  to  con- 
duct him  to  the  door  of  the  Princess  Karacsay's  flat, 
which  was  on  the  first  floor. 

Giles  was  admitted  by  a  neat  maid-servant,  who  showed 
him  into  a  picturesque  drawing-room.  A  tall  woman  in 
evening  dress  was  standing  beside  the  window  in  the 
twilight.  Giles  thought  her  figure  was  familiar  and 
recognized  the  turn  of  her  head.     He  uttered  a  cry. 

"Anne,"  he  said,  stretching  his  arms.  "Anne,  my 
dearest  !'* 


CHAPTER  XI 

PRINCESS   KARACSAY 

EVEN  as  he  spoke  the  room  was  flooded  with  the  light 
of  the  electric  lamps.  The  woman  by  the  window 
turned  and  came  forward  smiling.  With  a  feeling  of  bit- 
ter disappointment  Giles  recoiled.  It  was  not  Anne.  He 
had  been  deceived  by  a  chance  resemblance. 

"I  can  quite  understand  your  mistake,"  said  the  Prin- 
cess Karacsay.  "It  is  not  the  first  time  that  I  have  been 
taken  for  my  friend." 

Indeed,  she  was  very  like  Anne,  both  in  figure  and  face. 
She  had  the  some  dark  hair  and  dark  eyes,  the  same  oval 
face  and  rich  coloring.  But  her  expression  was  differ- 
ent. She  was  more  haughty  than  INIiss  Denham,  and 
there  was  less  simplicity  in  her  manner.  Even  as  Ware 
looked  at  her  the  likeness  seemed  to  vanish,  and  he  won- 
dered that  he  should  have  made  such  a  mistake.  Pjut  for 
the  twilight,  the  turn  of  her  head,  and  her  height,  to- 
gether with  the  way  in  which  she  carried  herself,  he  would 
not  have  been  deceived. 

"One  would  take  you  for  Miss  Denham's  sister,"  he 
said  when  seated. 

The  Princess  smiled  oddly.  "We  are  alike  in  many 
ways,"  she  replied  quietly.     "I  look  upon  Miss  Denham 


PRINCESS  KARACSAY  107 

as  my  second  self.     You  called  me  Anne  when  you  mis- 
took me  for  her,"  she  added,  with  a  keen  glance. 

"I  have  no  right  to  do  so,  Princess,  but "  He  hesi- 
tated, not  knowing  how  to  choose  his  words.  She  saw 
his  perplexity  and  smiled. 

"I  quite  understand,  Mr.  Ware." 

"Anne — I  mean  Miss  Denham — has  told  you  about 
me?" 

"I  have  not  seen  her  for  months,  Mr.  Ware,  not  since 
that  terrible  event  which  has  made  a  fugitive  of  her." 

Giles  was  bitterly  disappointed,  and  his  face  showed 
his  feelings.  From  what  Mrs.  Cairns  had  said  he  was 
certain  that  the  Princess  would  be  able  to  help  him,  and 
here  she  confessed  an  ignorance  of  Anne's  whereabouts. 
Nevertheless  Ware  still  hoped.  He  thought  that  not 
knowing  his  real  errand,  she  was  feigning  ignorance  for 
the  sake  of  her  friend's  safety.  "I  am  sorry  she  has  not 
spoken  to  you  about  me,"  he  remarked,  "for  then  you 
would  know  that  I  wish  her  well." 

"Oh,  I  know  that.  Anne — I  may  as  well  call  her  Anne 
to  you,  Mr.  Ware — wrote  to  me  from  Rickwell  several 
times.  She  told  me  all  about  you.  But  I  have  not  seen 
her  since  the  death  of  your  fiancee.  I  have  no  idea  where 
she  is  now." 

"I  thought — and  Mrs.  Cairns  thought — that  she  would 
come  to  you  in  her  distress,  or  at  least  communicate  her 
whereabouts." 

"She  has  done  neither,  and  I  do  not  know  where  to 
address  a  letter." 

"What  is  to  be  done?"  said  Giles  half  to  himself  and 
much  distressed. 

Princess  Karacsay  rose  and  glanced  at  the  clock  with 
a  laugh.  "Oh,  if  we  talk,  something  may  come  of  our 
putting  our  heads  together,"  she  said.     "Meantime  we 


io8  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

can  make  ourselves  comfortable.       Here  are  coffee  and 
cigarettes.  Air.  Ware.     Would  you  prefer  a  cigar?" 

'•Xo.  thank  you,  Princess.     These  look  very  good." 

"Both  coffee  and  cigarettes  are  Turkish,"  said  she, 
handing  him  a  cup  and  afterwards  a  cigarette.  "I  get 
them  from  a  cousin  of  mine  who  is  an  attache  at  Con- 
stantinople. Come  now."  She  lighted  a  cigarette  for 
herself  and  sat  down  on  an  amber  divan  near  Ware's 
chair.     "Let  us  talk  before  my  friend  arrives." 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  Princess,  I  hope  my  coming " 

"No,  no,"  she  explained  hurriedly.  "I  asked  my  friend 
to  meet  you." 

"Indeed."  Giles  was  much  surprised.  "I  did  not 
know  we  had  a  mutual  friend." 

The  Princess  nodded  and  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke.  "At 
ten  o'clock  you  shall  see  him.  I  won't  tell  you  who  he  is. 
A  little  surpris(\  Mr.  Ware." 

Ware  looked  at  her  sharply,  but  could  make  nothing 
of  the  enigmatic  smile  on  her  face.  She  was  undeniably 
a  very  beautiful  woman  as  she  lounged  amongst  the  am- 
ber-tinted cushions,  but  in  her  dress  and  general  looks 
there  was  something  barbaric.  She  wore  a  dinner  dress 
of  mingled  scarlet  and  black,  and  many  chains  of  sequins 
which  jingled  with  her  every  movement.  As  Ware's  eyes 
met  her  own  she  flashed  a  languorous  look  at  him,  and  a 
slow  smile  wreathed  her  full  red  lips.  Giles  could  not 
help  admiring  her,  but  he  had  a  feeling  that  she  was  not 
altogether  to  be  trusted.  It  behove  him  to  be  wary  in 
dealing  with  this  superb  tigress.  Yet,  as  another  thought 
crossed  his  mind,  he  smiled  involuntarily. 

"Why  do  you  smile,  Mr.  Ware?"  asked  the  Princess. 
She  spoke  the  English  language  admirably,  and  with  but 
a  little  foreign  accent. 

"Pardon,"  replied  Giles,  still  smiling,  "but  Mrs.  Cairns 


PRINCESS  KARACSAY  109 

told  me  that  at  one  time  you  aspired  to  become  a  gov- 
erness.    I  can't  imagine  you  teaching  children." 

"Ah,  you  have  no  imagination — no  Englishman  has. 
Children  are  fond  of  me — very  fond."  She  cast  another 
look  at  his  handsome  face,  and  added  with  emphasis,  "I 
can  make  any  one  I  choose  fond  of  me." 

"I  quite  believe  it,  Princess.  You  have  wc«nan's  im- 
perial sceptre — beauty." 

"A  charming  compliment,"  responded  she,  her  mood 
changing,  "but  we  are  not  here  to  exchange  compliments. 
So  you  love  Anne?" 

"With  all  my  heart  and  soul,"  he  replied  fen^ently. 

His  hostess  appeared  rather  disconcerted  by  this  reply. 
"You  are  a  miracle  of  chivalry,  my  dear  Mr.  Ware,"  she 
said  dryly.  "But  is  it  not  rather  a  large  heart  you  have 
to  love  two  women  at  the  same  time?" 

"I  understand  what  you  mean,"  answered  Ware  quietly, 
"but  my  engagement  to  Miss  Kent  was  purely  a  family 
arrangement.  I  loved  Anne — I  still  love  her.  All  the 
same,  I  would  have  married  Miss  Kent  had  she  not  been 
murdered." 

"You  are  \ery  obedient,  Mr.  Ware." 

"And  you  very  satirical.  Princess.  I  could  explain, 
but  there  is  no  need  for  me  to  do  so.  I  want  to  find  Anne. 
Can  you  help  me?" 

"Not  at  present,  but  I  may  be  able  to  do  so.  Of  course, 
you  don't  believe  that  she  killed  your  fiancee  ?" 

"Certainly  not.  I  think  the  crime  was  committed  by 
the  man  with  whom  she  fled." 

"A  tall  man  with  a  red  beard  and  hair  and  black  eyes  ?" 

"Yes,  yes.    Do  you  know  him?    Who  is  he?" 

"I  have  had  him  described  to  me,"  responded  the  Prin- 
cess calmly,  "but  I  know  nothing  about  him," 

"Is  he  a  friend  of  Anne's  ?" 


no  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"That  I  don't  know." 

She  quietly  selected  another  cigarette,  lighted  it,  and 
looked  with  a  serene  smile  at  her  visitor.  Giles  was  an- 
noyed. "We  don't  seem  to  be  getting  on  with  our  busi- 
ness, Princess,"  he  said  roughly. 

"What  is  our  business?'''  she  demanded,  looking  at  him 
through  half-closed  eyes.  Her  scrutiny  made  Giles  un- 
comfortable, and  he  shifted  his  seat  as  he  answered. 

"Mrs.  Cairns  said  you  could  tell  me  about  Anne." 

"So  I  can.    What  do  you  want  to  know,  Mr.  Ware?" 

"Who  is  she?  Who  was  her  father?  Is  he  dead  or 
alive?     What   do   you   know   about   the   Scarlet    Cross, 

and "    He  stopped,  for  the    Princess  had  opened  her 

eyes  to  their  fullest  extent. 

"The  Scarlet  Cross.  You  know  about  that  also?"  she 
asked. 

"Of  course  I  do.    There  was  an  anonymous  letior " 

"I  have  seen  the  letter,  or  at  least  a  copy." 

"Indeed,"  said  Ware,  much  astonished,  "and  an  enamel- 
led cross " 

"I  have  seen  the  cross  also." 

"It  appears  to  me,  Princess,  that  you  know  everything 
about  the  case." 

She  glanced  again  at  the  clock,  and  smiled  as  she  re- 
plied, "I  am  a  friend  of  Anne's,  Mr,  Ware.  I  daresay  you 
would  like  to  know  who  told  me  all  these  things.  Well, 
you  shall  be  enlightened  at  ten  o'clock.  Meantime  I  can 
tell  you  all  I  do  know  about  Anne  and  her  father." 

"You  will  speak  freely?"  he  asked  mistrustfully. 

"Absolutely.  You — you — "  she  hesitated — "you  love 
Anne."  She  gave  him  a  searching  look.  "Yes.  I  see  you 
do.  I  can  speak  openly.  Will  you  have  another  cup  of 
coffee?  No!  Another  cigarette.  Ah,  there  is  the  box. 
A  match.    Now." 


PRINCESS  KARACSAY  III 

"Now,"  said  Giles  eagerly,  "what  about  Anne?" 

"What  about  myself  first  of  all,  Mr.  Ware.  I  am  a 
Hungarian.  I  quarrelled  with  my  people  and  ran  away. 
Finding  myself  stranded  in  London  with  very  little  money, 
I  tried  to  get  a  post  as  a  governess.  I  went  to  Mrs. 
Cairns,  and  thus  became  acquainted  with  Anne.  We  be- 
came great  friends.  She  told  me  everything  about  her- 
self. When  I  knew  her  history  we  became  greater  friends 
than  ever.     I  was  a  governess  only  for  a  year.     Then 

someone  heard  me  sing,  and "  — she  shrugged  her 

beautiful  shoulders — "but  that  is  quite  another  story,  Mr. 
Ware.  I  am  a  concert-singer  now,  and  it  pays  me  excel- 
lently." 

"I  am  very  pleased  with  your  success,  Princess.  But 
Anne?" 

She  flashed  a  rather  annoyed  look  at  him.  "You  are 
scarcely  so  chivalrous  as  I  thought,  Mr.  Ware,"  she  said 
coldly.  "No,  say  nothing;  I  quite  understand.  Let  us 
talk  of  Anne.  I  will  tell  you  her  history."  She  re-lighted 
her  cigarette,  which  had  gone  out,  and  continued,  "Her 
father  was  a  gambler  and  a  wanderer.  He  lived  mostly 
on  the  Continent — Monte  Carlo  for  choice.  Anne's 
mother" — here  the  Princess  paused,  and  then  went  on 
with  an  obvious  effort — "I  know  nothing  of  Anne's 
m.other,  Mr.  Ware.  She  died  when  Anne  was  a  child. 
Mr.  Denham  brought  up  his  daughter  in  a  haphazard 
way." 

"Was  his  name  really  Denham  ?" 

"So  Anne  told  me.  I  had  no  reason  to  think  that  it 
was  otherwise.  He  was  a  gentleman  of  good  family, 
but  an  outcast  from  his  people  by  reason  of  his  reckless 
folly.  I  also  am  an  outcast,"  said  she  pleasantly,  "but 
merely  because  I  am  strong-minded.     I  am  not  foolish." 


112  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"No,  Princess,"  said  Giles,  looking  keenly  at  her,  "I 
should  certainly  not  call  you  foolish." 

"But  I  can  be  foolish  on  occasions,"'  said  she  quickly, 
and  flushed  as  she  glanced  at  him,  "like  all  women.  But 
Anne — I  see  we  must  get  back  to  Anne.  Well,  she,  hav- 
ing better  moral  principles  than  her  father,  grew  wearied 
of  their  wandering  life.  She  decided  to  become  a  gov- 
erness. Mr.  Denham  put  her  to  school  at  Hampstead — a 
sister  of  Mrs.  Cairns  keeps  the  school,  and  that  is  why 
Anne  is  so  intimate  with  Mrs.  Cairns — and  when  her  edu- 
cation was  finished  she  took  a  situation  in  Italy,  There 
she  remained  some  years.  Afterwards  she  rejoined  her 
father  for  a  time.  He  died  at  Florence — typhoid  fever, 
I  believe — and  Anne  found  herself  alone.  She  returned 
to  England,  and  assisted  by  Mrs.  Cairns,  took  various 
situations.  She  always  returned  to  Mrs.  Cairns  when 
out  of  an  engagement.  It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions 
that  I  met  her.  We  have  been  friends  for  a  long  time, 
Mr.  Ware.  Then  Anne  was  engaged  by  Mrs.  Morley, 
and — and  the  rest  you  know.  There  is  no  more  to  be 
said." 

"Is  that  all  ?"  said  Giles,  disappointed  by  this  bald  nar- 
rative. 

The  Princess  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  throwing 
aside  her  cigarette,  leaned  back  with  her  hands  behind 
her  head.  "What  would  you,  Mr.  Ware?  Anne  is  a  good 
woman.    Good  women  never  have  any  history." 

"Can  you  tell  me  anything  about  the  Scarlet  Cross?" 

"Anne  never  spoke  of  such  a  thing  to  me.  But  my 
friend  may  be  able  to  tell  you.  Ah !" — the  Princess 
raised  her  head  as  a  ring  came  to  the  door — "there  is  my 
friend.  Before  his  time,  too.  But  we  have  finished  our 
conversation,  Mr.  Ware." 

"For  the  present,  yes." 


PRINCESS  KARACSAY  113 

She  looked  at  him  suddenly.  "But  certainly,"  she  said 
in  her  vivacious  way,  "you  must  come  and  see  me  again. 
We  will  have  much  to  talk  of.    You  love  music.    I  will 

sing  to  you,  and "     Here  she  broke  off  to  greet  a 

new-comer,  much  to  the  relief  of  Giles,  who  was  begin- 
ning to  feel  uncomfortable.  "How  do  you  do,  Mr. 
Steel?" 

With  an  exclamation  Ware  rose.  It  was  indeed  Steel 
who  stood  before  him  looking  as  round  and  rosy  and 
cheerful  as  ever.  "You  are  surprised  to  see  me,  sir,"  he 
said,  with  a  twinkle. 

"I  am  very  much  surprised.  I  went  to  see  you  yester- 
day  " 

"And  found  that  I  was  out  of  town.  So  I  was,  so  I 
am  supposed  to  be,  but  the  telegram  of  the  Princess  here 
told  me  that  she  expected  you  this  evening,  so  I  left  my 
country  business  and  came  up." 

"You  see,"  said  the  Princess,  sitting  down  again 
amongst  her  cushions,  "you  see,  Mr.  Ware,  I  told  you 
we  had  a  mutual  friend.  Now  you  know  hew  I  am  so 
well  acquainted  with  the  case,"  and  she  laughed. 

"The  Princess,"  explained  Steel,  seeing  Giles'  aston- 
ishment, "read  all  about  the  case.  Being  a  friend  of 
Miss  Denham's  and  seeing  that  I  had  charge  of  the  mat- 
ter, she  sent  for  me.  We  have  talked  over  the  case,  and 
I  have  received  much  assistance  from  Miss — I  mean  from 
this  very  clever  lady,  the  Princess  Karacsay,"  and  Steel 
bowed. 

"But,"  stammered  Ware,  still  puzzled,  "you  believe 
Miss  Denham  to  be  guilty.  Surely  the  Princess  will 
not " 

"No,  no !"  came  from  the  divan  in  the  deep-tcmed  voice 
of  the  woman.  "Anne  is  my  friend.  I  would  not  help 
him  to  arrest  her." 


114  A  COIX  OF  EDWARD  VIL 

"The  fact  is,"  said  Steel  easily,  "I  have  changed  my 
opinion,  Mr.  Ware,  and  I  think  Miss  Denham  is  innocent. 
The  man  who  killed  Miss  Kent  is  called  Wilson." 

"Wilson.  And  who  is  Wilson,  and  why  did  he  kill 
her?" 

"I  don't  know  who  Wilson  is,"  replied  Steel.  "I  am 
trying  to  find  out.  I  am  not  quite  certain  why  he  killed 
her,  but  I  am  beginning  to  suspect  that  it  was  on  ac- 
count of  this  inherited  money.  I  told  you  that,  Princess," 
he  added,  turning  to  the  divan. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Steel.  And  I  said  then,  I  say  now,  I  do  not 
agree." 

"If  you  would  be  more  explicit,"  said  Ware,  feeling 
helpless. 

Steel  took  no  notice  of  him  for  the  moment.  "Then  if 
it's  not  the  money  I  don't  know  what  the  motive  can  be." 
He  turned  to  Ware.  "See  here,  sir.  This  Wilson,  whom- 
soever he  may  be,  lived  with  the  mother  of  Asher's  ofiice- 
boy — he  was  her  lodger.  The  boy  told  him  about  the 
money  coming  to  Miss  Kent.  Afterwards  the  lad  had  a 
summons  given  him  to  serve  on  Morley.  Wilson  offered 
to  take  it,  and  did  so.  He  removed  his  effects  from  Mrs. 
Benker's  house — she's  the  mother  of  the  lad — and  went 
down  to  Rickwell.  You  know  what  happened  there.  Xovv 
if  he  didn't  kill  Miss  Kent  on  account  of  the  money,  why 
did  he  ask  the  office-boy  about  the  matter?" 

Giles  shook  his  head.  "I  can't  say,"  he  said,  "no  more 
than  I  can  explain  why  Miss  Denham  helped  him  to  es- 
cape." 

"Well," — Steel  scratched  his  chin — "I  have  an  idea 
about  that.  But  you  must  not  be  offended  if  I  speak 
plainly,  Mr.  Ware." 

"I  shall  be  offended  if  you  speak  evil  of  my  friend 
Miss  Denham."    This  was  from  the  Princess,  who  raised 


PRINCESS  KARACSAY  115 

herself  up  with  her  eyes  flashing  angrily.     "I  will  not 
have  it,"  she  said. 

"Then  am  I  to  say  nothing?"  asked  Steel  ironically. 

"Nothing  against  Miss  Denham,"  put  in  Giles. 

"You  are  both  rather  difficult  to  deal  with,"  remarked 
Steel,  with  a  shrug.  "However,  I'll  explain,  and  you  can 
draw  your  own  inferences.  It  seems  from  what  Mrs. 
Benker  said  that  Mr.  Wilson  was  mostly  out  all  night  and 
in  all  day.  Also  he  was  frequently  absent  for  a  long  time. 
He  likewise  took  much  interest  in  Society  newspapers  and 
in  the  movements  of  the  aristocracy.  He  also  wore  on 
his  chain  an  ornament — a  red-enamelled  cross,  in  fact." 

"What!"  cried  Giles,  with  a  start,  and  he  noted  that 
the  Princess  started  likewise,  and  that  her  face  grew  pale. 

"He  wore  a  red-enamelled  cross,"  repeated  Steel  imper- 
turbably,  "on  his  watch-chain.  Mrs.  Benker  had  been  in 
the  service  of  the  late  Lady  Summersdale  when  the  dia- 
monds of  that  lady  were  stolen.  She  remembered  that  a 
red-enamelled  cross  had  been  found  in  the  safe  whence 
the  jewels  were  taken.  Wilson  was  amused  at  this.  He 
said  that  the  cross  was  the  emblem  of  a  charitable  society 
from  which  he  received  a  weekly  sum.  Well" — he  hesi- 
tated and  looked  at  his  listeners — "that  clue  came  to  an 
end.  I  lost  sight  of  Wilson.  I  then  went  to  look  for 
The  Red  Cross — the  yacht,  I  mean !'' 

"What  has  the  yacht  to  do  with  Wilson  ?"  asked  Ware 
angrily. 

"If  you  remember,  sir,  I  told  you  that  Wilson  was  the 
man  who  served  the  summons  on  Mr.  Morley,  and  who, 
as  I  beheved,  killed  Miss  Kent.  He  afterwards  fled  with 
Miss  Denham  and  went  on  board  the  yacht.  Is  not  that 
the  case,  sir?" 

"So  far  as  I  can  judge,  it  is,"  muttered  Giles  reluc- 
tantly. 


ii6  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Well,  then,"  went  on  Steel  triumphantly,  while  the 
Princess — as  Giles  observed — listened  intently,  "I  looked 
after  that  yacht.  I  could  not  find  her,  but  I  am  looking 
for  her  now.  That  is  why  I  am  in  the  country.  I  came 
up  this  morning  from  Deal,  and  I  go  back  there  to-mor- 
row. I  find,  sir,  that  this  yacht  puts  in  at  various  places 
every  now  and  then." 

"Most  yachts  do." 

"Yes,  sir.  But  while  most  yachts  are  at  anchor  in  a 
place  does  a  burglary  invariably  occur?  No,  sir,  wait," 
for  Giles  had  sprung  to  his  feet.  "Lady  Summersdale's 
place  was  on  the  seashore.  Her  diamonds  were  stolen. 
At  the  time  this  yacht  was  at  anchor  in  the  bay.  A  red 
cross  was  found  in  the  safe.  The  boat  is  called  by  that 
name.  Several  times  I  find  that  when  the  yacht  has  been 
at  a  certain  place  a  burglary  has  occurred.  This  man  Wil- 
son wears  a  red  cross  on  his  watch-chain.  Now,  sir,  I 
believe  that  he  is  one  of  a  gang  of  burglars — that  the  cross 
is  a  sign.  This  explains  his  interest  in  the  Society  pa- 
pers. He  wants  to  find  out  where  the  best  swag  is  to 
be  found,  and " 

"But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  my  friend  Anne?" 
cried  the  Princess. 

Steel  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I  say  nothing,"  he  re- 
plied.   "You  can  draw  your  own  inferences." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Miss  Dcnham " 

"I  say  nothing,"  interrupted  Steel,  catching  up  his  hat. 
"Mr.  Ware,  I  am  at  your  service  when  you  want  me. 
Princess !"    He  bowed  and  went  out. 

As  the  outer  door  closed  Giles  and  his  hostess  looked 
at  one  another.  "The  man's  a  foul  liar,"  burst  out  Giles 
furiously. 

"Yes."  The  woman  was  very  pale.  "Still,  my  friend 
Anne  once  told  me " 


PRINCESS  KARACSAY  117 

"Told  you  what?" 

"What  I  will  tell  you  if  you  come  again,"  she  said  un- 
der her  breath,  and  suddenly  left  the  room.  She  did  not 
return. 


CHAPTER  XII 


MRS.   PARRY  S  TEA 


SIX  months  had  passed  away  since  the  death  of  Daisy. 
The  grass  was  now  green  above  her  grave.  Where 
she  had  fallen  there  had  she  been  buried  beside  her  father, 
and  the  villagers  often  talked  of  the  tragedy,  and  pointed 
out  to  strangers  the  spot  where  it  had  taken  place.  But 
she  who  had  killed  the  girl — they  still  considered  Anne 
guilty — had  never  been  brought  to  justice.  From  the  day 
she  had  fled  on  Ware's  motor-car  nothing  had  been  heard 
of  her. 

No  one  troubled  about  the  dead  girl.  Daisy  had  not 
been  very  popular  during  her  life,  and  now  that  she  was 
gone  her  name  was  scarcely  mentioned.  For  a  time  Mrs. 
Morlcy  had  placed  flowers  on  the  green  mound,  but  after 
her  return  from  Brighton  had  desisted.  The  grass  grew 
long,  and  the  path  beside  the  grave  green.  A  tombstone 
of  white  marble  had  been  erected  by  Giles,  and  already 
that  was  becoming  discolored.  Daisy  and  her  resting- 
place  were  forgotten.  The  poor  child  might  have  been 
dead  a  hundred  years  instead  of  six  months.  Only  the 
tale  of  her  death  remained  as  a  fireside  legend,  to  be  am- 
plified and  improved  upon  as  the  years  went  by. 


MRS.  PARRY'S  TEA  119 

After  that  one  sensation  life  went  on  in  Rickwell  very- 
much  as  it  had  always  done.  Morley  and  his  wife  re- 
turned to  The  Elms,  and  instead  of  having  a  new  gover- 
ness the  triplets  went  to  school.  Mrs.  Morley  never  spoke 
of  Anne  or  Daisy,  and  seemed  to  grow  no  more  cheerful 
than  before  even  in  the  perfect  summer  weather.  She 
still  looked  pale  and  subdued,  and  her  eyes  still  had  in 
their  watery  depths  an  anxious  expression.  Everyone  said 
that  she  was  regretting  the  death  of  Daisy  and  the  wick- 
edness of  Anne ;  but  others  remarked  that  she  had  looked 
just  as  haggard  and  worn  before  as  after  the  tragedy. 
Mrs.  Parry  gave  it  as  her  opinion  that  the  poor  lady 
had  a  secret  sorrow,  and  tried  by  skilful  questioning  to 
learn  what  it  was.  But  either  Mrs.  Parry  was  not  clever 
enough  or  Mrs.  Morley  had  no  secret  to  reveal,  for  the 
scandalmonger  learned  nothing.  The  only  thing  that 
Mrs.  Morley  said  was  that  she  missed  her  girls.  Where- 
upon Mrs.  Parry  told  her  that  she  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  herself,  seeing  that  the  three  were  getting  a  good  edu- 
cation. However,  this  did  not  seem  to  console  Mrs.  Mor- 
ley much,  for  she  wept  copiously  in  her  usual  fashion. 

The  good  old  lady  returned  to  her  cottage  very  much 
disgusted.  It  was  rather  a  dull  time  for  her,  as  she  had 
heard  no  news  for  a  long  time.  Everyone  was  so  well- 
behaved  that  there  was  no  scandal  going,  and  Mrs.  Parry 
began  to  think  that  she  ought  to  pay  a  visit  to  town. 
Her  cousin,  Mrs.  McKail,  had  already  gone  back  to  New 
Zealand  with  a  fearful  opinion  of  English  Society,  for 
Mrs.  Parry  had  blackened  the  country  just  as  though  she 
had  been  a  pro-Boer. 

Then  one  day  her  little  maid,  who  was  called  Jane,  and 
had  the  sharpest  ears  of  any  one  in  the  village,  brought 
in  breakfast  with  the  remark  that  Mr.  Ware  had  returned. 


120  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

Mrs.  Parry  sat  up  in  bed,  where  she  always  partook  of 
the  first  meal  of  the  day,  and  lcx)ked  excited. 

"When  did  he  arrive,  Jane  ?  How  does  he  look  ?  What 
does  he  say  ?" 

Jane,  being  experienced,  answered  these  questions  cate- 
gorically. 

"He  came  last  night,  mum,  with  Trim,  and  looks  a 
shadder  of  hisself,  but  said  as  he  was  glad  to  be  home 
again,  and  what  was  the  news." 

"Ho!"  said  Mrs.  Parry,  rubbing  her  nose  with  a  tea- 
spoon, "wants  to  hear  the  news,  docs  he?  I'll  ask  him  to 
tea  to-morrow — no,  to-day.  You  can  take  a  note  up  to 
his  place,  Jane." 

"Yes,  mum,"  replied  Jane,  who  was  friendly  with  Giles' 
housekeeper. 

"And  don't  let  me  hear  that  you've  been  gossiping  with 
the  servants,  Jane,"  snapped  Mrs.  Parry,  who  was  un- 
usually cross  in  the  morning,  and  looked  an  ogress  with- 
out her  wig.  "I  hate  gossip.  You  have  two  ears  and  one 
mouth,  Jane ;  that  means  you  should  listen  twice  as  much 
as  you  speak." 

"Yes,  mum,"  replied  Jane,  who  had  long  since  taken 
the  measure  of  her  mistress's  foot.  Then  she  went  to  the 
door,  and  was  recalled  to  be  told  that  the  cook  was  to 
make  a  cake.  She  was  going  again,  and  had  to  return  for 
instructions  about  some  particular  tea.  Then  there  was 
the  silver  to  be  especially  polished,  and  various  other  mat- 
ters to  be  gone  into,  until  Jane's  head  was  whirling  and 
her  feet  ached.  She  went  down  to  the  kitchen  and  told 
the  cook  that  the  old  vinegar  bottle  was  more  fractious 
than  usual.  If  only  Mrs.  Parry  had  heard  her!  But  she 
thought  Jane  was  afraid  of  her.  whereas  Jane  was  meek 
to  her  face  and  saucy  behind  her  back.    The  old  lady  heard 


MRS.  PARRY'S  TEA  121 

all  the  gossip  in  the  neighborhood,  but  she  never  knew 
the  remarks  that  were  made  in  her  own  kitchen. 

However,  it  thus  came  about  that  Giles  received  a  civil 
note  from  Mrs.  Parry,  asking  him  to  come  to  afternoon 
tea.  His  first  thought  was  to  refuse,  but  he  then  reflected 
that  if  he  wanted  to  learn  all  that  had  taken  place  during 
his  absence,  Mrs.  Parry  was  the  very  person  who  could 
tell  him.  He  knew  she  was  an  old  cat,  and  had  a  danger- 
ous tongue.  Still,  she  was  much  better  than  a  newspaper, 
being,  as  her  enemies  said,  more  spicy.  He  therefore  ac- 
cepted the  invitation,  and  appeared  in  the  little  parlor 
about  five.  He  had  been  for  a  ride,  and  having  put  his 
horse  up  at  the  inn,  asked  the  old  lady  to  excuse  his 
dress.    Mrs.  Parry  did  so  with  pleasure. 

Giles  was  a  splendid  figure  of  a  man,  and  looked  a 
picture  in  his  trim  riding-dress.  The  old  dame  had  an 
eye  for  a  fine  man,  and  cast  an  approving  glance  at  his 
shapely  legs  and  slim  figure.  But  she  frowned  when  her 
eyes  rose  to  his  face.  It  was  thinner  than  she  liked  to 
see;  there  was  not  the  old  brave  light  in  his  eyes,  and 
his  fair  moustache  had  lost  the  jaunty  curl,  which,  to  her 
romantic  mind,  had  made  him  such  a  gallant  lover. 

Giles  was  one  of  the  few  persons  Mrs.  Parr}-  did  not 
abuse,  for  his  good  looks  and  many  courtesies  had  long 
since  won  her  foolish  old  heart,  although  she  would  never 
confess  to  it.  But  then,  Mrs.  Parry  was  softer  than  she 
looked. 

"Who  had  been  taking  the  heart  out  of  you,  Ware?" 
she  asked  in  her  gentlemanly  way,  which  Giles  knew  and 
had  often  laughed  at. 

"No  one,"  he  answered  gloomily,  "unless  you  call  Fate 
some  one." 

"I  call  Anne  Denham  some  one,"  she  replied  coolly,  "so 
you  haven't  found  her  yet,  poor  soul !" 


122  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"No;  I  have  looked  everywhere.  She  lias  vanished  like 
a  bubble." 

"It  is  just  as  well.  You  couldn't  possibly  marry  her  and 
bring  her  back  to  Rickwell  as  your  wife." 

"Why  not?  She  is  innocent.  You  said  yourself  that 
she  was." 

"And  I  believe  it.  I  have  stood  up  for  her  all  through. 
All  the  same,  Ware,  there  would  be  a  scandal  if  she  came 
back  as  Mrs.  Ware." 

"I  don't  care  two  straws  for  that,"  said  Giles,  flinging 
back  his  head. 

"No,"  she  replied  dryly,  "I  know  that.  You're  an  ob- 
stinate man,  as  any  one  can  see  with  half  an  eye.  Well, 
I'm  glad  to  see  you  again.  Sit  down  in  the  armchair  yon- 
der and  tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing  all  these  months. 
No  good,  if  your  face  is  the  index  of  your  mind." 

Ware  laughed,  and  sitting  down  managed  to  stow  his 
long  legs  out  of  the  way — no  easy  matter  in  the  little 
room.  Then  he  accepted  a  cup  of  excellent  tea  from  Mrs. 
Parry  and  some  of  her  celebrated  cake. 

He  did  not  reply  immediately,  as  he  did  not  want  to 
tell  her  the  truth.  She  had  too  long  a  tongue  to  be  told 
anything  which  it  was  necessary  to  keep  secret.  He  put 
her  off  as  he  best  could  with  a  general  answer. 

"I  have  just  been  going  to  and  fro." 

"Like  Satan,"  sniffed  Mrs.  Parry.  "He's  your  model, 
is  he?    So  you  have  been  searching  for  Anne.    Where?" 

"In  Paris  and  in  London.    But  I  can't  find  her." 

"She  doesn't  want  you  to  find  her,"  replied  the  old  lady. 
"If  she  did.  you  would  stand  face  to  face  with  her  soon 
enough." 

"That  goo?  without  the  speaking,"  retorted  Ware. 
"However,  my  adventures  would  not  amuse  you,  Mrs. 


MRS.  PARRY'S  TEA  123 

Parry.  Suppose  you  tell  me  what  has  been  going  on  in 
these  parts?" 

"As  if  I  knew  anything  of  what  was  going  on,"  said 
Mrs.  Parry. 

Giles  laughed. 

It  was  a  fiction  with  Mrs.  Parry  that  she  never  inter- 
fered with  other  people's  business,  whereas  there  was  not 
a  pie  within  miles  into  which  she  had  not  thrust  her  finger. 
But  he  knew  how  to  start  her  tongue. 

"The  Morleys,  what  about  them?" 

"No  change,  Ware.  The  Tricolor  has  gone  to  school — 
I  mean  the  three  children — although  I  can't  get  out  of  the 
habit  of  calling  them  by  that  ridiculous  name.  Mrs.  Mor- 
ley  is  as  dismal  as  ever,  and  seems  to  miss  Anne  very 
much." 

"As  well  she  might.  Anne  was  a  good  friend  to  her. 
And  Morley?" 

"He  has  found  a  new  friend,"  said  Mrs.  Parry  trium- 
phantly, "a  man  called  Franklin." 

"George  Franklin !"  cried  Ware,  startled,  for  he  had 
heard  all  about  the  fortune  from  Steel.  "He  is  the  man 
who  inherited  the  five  thousand  a  year  that  Powell  left 
to  Daisy.  Steel,  the  detective,  told  me,  and,  now  I  think 
of  it,  Morley  told  me  himself  when  I  was  ill." 

"It's  the  same  man,  Ware.  He  has  been  here  two 
months,  and  has  taken  the  Priory." 

"That's  a  cheerful  place,"  said  Giles.  "Why,  it  has 
been  standing  empty  for  three  years." 

"I  know.  The  last  tenants  left  because  they  said  it  was 
haunted." 

"Rubbish!    And  by  what?" 

"By  a  white  lady.  She  wanders  up  and  down  the  park, 
wringing  her  hands.    But  this  Franklin  evidently  does  not 


124  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

believe  in  ghosts,  for  he  has  been  there  these  two  months, 
and  never  a  word  from  him." 

"What  kind  of  a  man  is  he?" 

"A  tall  man,  with  very  black  eyes,  and  a  black  beard. 
No,"  added  Mrs.  Parry,  correcting  herself,  "I  am  wrong. 
He  had  a  beard  when  he  first  came,  and  now  has  ohaved  it 
off." 

"Have  you  seen  much  of  him  ?" 

"Hardly  anything.  Morley  is  the  only  person  with 
whom  he  is  intimate  in  any  degree.  He  hardly  ever  comes 
out,  and  when  people  call  he  is  not  at  home.  Why  the 
man  should  have  five  thousand  a  year  I  can't  make  out. 
He  does  no  good  with  it." 

"Any  family?  a  wife?" 

"Ther<?  is  a  daughter,  I  understand,  but  she  is  an  in- 
valid, and  keeps  to  her  room  or  to  the  grounds.  Weak 
in  the  head  I  should  say,  seeing  how  secluded  her  father 
keeps  her." 

"Have  you  seen  her?" 

"Yes,  I  came  on  her  unexpectedly  one  day — or  rather 
one  evening.  A  short  girl,  with  red  hair  and  a  freckled 
face.  She  looks  a  fool,  and  was  dressed  in  all  the  colors 
of  the  rainbow.  I  don't  wonder  he — I  mean  Franklin — 
keeps  her  out  of  sight." 

"Humph !"  said  Ware,  rather  astonished  by  the  extent 
of  Mrs.  Parry's  information,  "did  the  servants  tell  you 
all  this?" 

"There  are  no  servants,"  retorted  Mrs.  Parry,  with 
scorn.  "The  man  is  a  mean  creature.  You  may  not  be- 
lieve me.  Ware,  but  he  has  only  three  people  to  do  the 
work  of  that  huge  house." 

"Then  there  are  three  servants?" 

"Some  people  might  call  them  so,"  retorted  Mrs.  Parry, 
determined  not  to  give  up  her  point,  "but  they  are  a  queer 


MRS.  PARRY'S  TEA  125 

lot — not  at  all  like  the  domestic  I  have  been  used  to.  An 
old  man,  who  acts  as  a  kind  of  butler ;  a  woman,  his  wife, 
who  is  the  cook;  and  a  brat  of  fifteen,  the  daughter  I 
expect,  who  does  the  general  work.  Oh,  it's  quite  a  fam- 
ily affair." 

"A  queer  household.  Does  this  man  intend  to  stop 
long?" 

''He  has  taken  the  Priory  on  a  seven  years'  lease." 

"And  Morley  visits  him?" 

"Yes,  and  he  visits  Morley.  They  are  as  thick  as 
thieves.    Perhaps  they  may  be  thieves  for  all  I  know." 

"Does  this  man  Franklin  go  about  much  ?" 

"Not  a  great  deal,  but  he  occasionally  takes  a  walk  into 
the  village.  Sometimes  he  comes  to  church,  and  I  be- 
lieve the  rector  has  called.  I  wish  any  one  but  him  had 
taken  the  Priory.  We  want  company  in  this  dull  place. 
Will  you  call  and  see  him  ?" 

"I  ought  to,"  replied  Ware  slowly,  "seeing  that  I  was 
engaged  to  Daisy,  who  should  have  had  the  money.  But 
from  what  you  say  I  should  not  think  Franklin  would 
care  to  see  me,  and  certainly  he  does  not  seem  to  be  a  de- 
sirable neighbor." 

"He's  quite  a  mistake,"  snorted  Mrs.  Parry.  "I  tried 
to  be  friendly,  but  he  gave  me  to  understand  that  he  pre- 
ferred his  books  to  my  company.  He's  a  great  reader,  I 
understand." 

Evidently  the  good  lady  was  somewhat  sore  on  the  sub- 
ject, for  she  shortly  changed  it  for  another.  First  she 
began  to  talk  of  Daisy ;  secondly,  wonder  who  had  killed 
her,  and  why  ;  and  thirdly,  she  made  mention  of  the  grave. 
"There's  something  queer  about  that,"  she  remarked,  rub- 
bing her  nose,  a  sure  sign  of  perplexity. 

"How  do  you  mean,  queer?" 

"Well "     Mrs.  Parry  looked  thoughtfully  at  her 


126  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  MI. 

giiest.  Then,  before  replying,  she  gave  him  permission 
to  smoke.  "I  like  the  scent  of  a  cigar  about  the  place," 
she  said ;  "it  reminds  me  of  the  Colonel.  He  was  an 
awful  man  to  smoke.  The  one  habit  I  could  not  break 
him  of." 

Giles  lighted  a  cigarette  willingly  enough,  and  repeated 
his  question.  This  time  he  got  an  answer  that  surprised 
him.  "It's  this  way,"  said  the  old  lady,  taking  up  her 
knitting,  "for  some  time  the  grave  was  quite  neglected." 

"No,  I  gave  orders  that  it  should  be  looked  after.  I 
told  Drake  and  my  gardener.  He's  a  friend  of  the  sex- 
ton's, and  I  thought  there  would  be  no  trouble." 

"There  has  been,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Parry  triumphantly. 
"The  sexton  and  your  gardener  quarrelled,  and  have  not 
been  on  speaking  terms  for  months.  Thomas,  the  sexton, 
won't  let  Williams  do  anything  to  the  grave,  and  out  of 
spite  won't  touch  it  himself,  so  it  went  to  rack  and  ruin. 
The  grass  is  long — or  rather  was  long — and  the  flowers 
all  gone  to  seed.    A  sore  wreck,  Ware." 

"I  am  most  annoyed.     I'll  see  about  it  to-morrow." 

"There  is  no  need.  The  grave  is  now  as  neat  as  a 
new  pin.  The  grass  is  clipped,  and  fresh  flowers  were 
planted  a  month  ago.  I  never  saw  a  grave  better  kept. 
Quite  a  labor  of  love." 

"And  who  has  done  this  ?    Mrs.  Morley  ?" 

"Pish !"  said  the  old  dame  pettishly.  "As  though  that 
woman  had  the  gumption  to  do  anything.  Humph !  No 
one  knows  who  has  done  it." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"    Ware  looked  puzzled. 

"What  I  say ;  I  usually  do.  The  grave  has  been  put 
to  rights.  At  first  few  people  noticed  it,  because  few  go 
into  that  corner;  but  one  day  some  imp  of  a  choir  boy 
saw  the  improvement,  and  told  old  Thomas.  He  came 
and  looked  at  it,  and  others  came.     No  one  knew  \Aio 


MRS.  PARRY'S  TEA  127 

had  put  it  to  rights.  Then,"  continued  Mrs.  Parry  im- 
pressively, "it  was  discovered  that  it  was  done  at  night." 

"At  night?" 

"Yes ;  but  no  one  seems  to  know  by  whom  or  at  what 
time.  Every  morning  some  fresh  improvement  was  noted. 
Some  people  watched,  but  saw  no  one  coming.  Yet  when 
the  watching  was  dropped  there  was  something  fresh 
done.  It  may  be  a  brownie,"  added  Mrs.  Parry,  with  a 
sniff,  "but  it's  a  mystery.    Even  I  can't  find  out  the  truth." 

"It's  very  strange,"  said  Ware  thoughtfully. 

"It's  worse;  it's  improper,"  cried  Mrs.  Parry  in  her 
sternest  voice.  "I  see  no  reason  why  such  a  thing  should 
be  done  in  the  darkness  of  night.  Though  to  be  sure," 
she  continued,  rubbing  her  nose,  "we  have  had  moonlight 
lately." 

"I  must  see  into  this,"  said  Ware,  rising. 

"You'll  find  nothing.  Everyone  has  watched,  but  to 
no  purpose,  my  friend.  Now  the  idiots  talk  of  ghosts, 
and  what  not." 

"What  do  you  think  yourself?"  asked  Giles. 

"Why,  that  some  one  who  loved  Daisy  better  than  you 
did  has  taken  pity  on  her  neglected  grave,  and " 

"Don't!"  he  cried,  wincing.  "I  did  my  best  to  make 
her  happy.    The  engagement  was  unfortunate." 

"The  marriage  would  have  been  still  more  so.  It  is 
just  as  well  the  poor  girl  died.  No,  no,  I  don't  blame  you. 
But  Anne " 

"Don't  say  a  word  against  Anne,"  he  interrupted  quick- 
ly. Then,  before  his  hostess  could  reply,  he  took  his  leave. 
"I  must  be  going  now." 

Mrs.  Parry  was  not  at  all  pleased,  but  knowing  how  far 
she  could  go,  decided  that  she  had  reached  the  limit  of 
his  forbearance.  With  feminine  craft  she  smothered  her 
resentment,  and  parted  from  him  in  the  most  cordial  man- 


128  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

ner.  All  the  same,  she  still  held  to  her  opinion  that  Anne 
was  not  the  wife  for  her  favorite. 

Giles  went  at  once  to  the  churchyard  to  view  Daisy's 
grave.  He  found  everything  in  good  order.  The  grass 
was  shorn,  the  llowers  were  blooming,  and  the  white  mar- 
ble of  the  stone  had  been  cleansed  carefully.  Wondering 
who  had  performed  this  labor  of  love,  he  returned  to  get 
his  horse.  At  the  gate  of  the  churchyard  a  tall  man 
passed  him  with  bent  head.  As  he  brushed  past  the 
young  squire  he  raised  it  suddenly.  Giles  saw  a  clean- 
shaven face,  large  black  eyes,  and  a  sallow  complexion. 
He  stood  aside  to  let  him  pass. 

"Rather  a  nice  day,"  said  Ware  pleasantly. 

"Very,"  responded  the  man,  and  continued  his  walk. 

Giles  knew  very  well  that  he  was  the  new  tenant  of 
the  Priory.  It  was  in  his  mind  to  speak  to  him,  but  on 
second  thoughts  he  decided  to  do  so  on  a  more  propitious 
occasion.  Standing  at  the  gate,  he  looked  thoughtfully 
after  the  retiring  figure.  There  was  something  familiar 
about  it  and  about  the  face  of  the  man.  His  eyes  especi- 
ally aroused  a  vague  recollection  in  his  mind,  but  he  could 
not,  as  the  saying  goes,  "put  a  name  to  it."  But  while 
walking  to  the  inn  it  suddenly  flashed  into  his  brain  that 
this  was  the  man  whom  he  had  seen  in  church  on  that 
fatal  New  Year's  Eve. 

"It's  the  clerk."  he  said  breathlessly.  "He  has  shaved 
his  beard.  He  is  Wilson,  the  man  who  fled  with  Anne, 
who  murdered  poor  Daisy !" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MRS.   BENKER  REAPPEARS 

THE  more  Giles  thought  about  Franklin,  the  more  he 
was  certain  that  he  was  the  man  for  whom  search 
was  being  made.  To  be  sure  there  was  no  distinguishing 
mark  of  identification ;  the  evidence  that  he  was  one  and 
the  same  amounted  to  the  facts  that  he  had  large  black 
eyes,  and  that  his  height  and  figure  resembled  the  so- 
called  Wilson.  Moreover,  although  other  people  in  the 
village  had  seen  the  clerk,  no  one  but  Giles  seemed  to 
recognize  him.  In  fact,  this  recognition  was  rather  due 
to  an  instinct  than  to  any  tangible  reason.  But  in  his  own 
mind  he  was  convinced.  He  recalled  how  the  man  had 
suddenly  removed  his  scarf  as  though  he  were  stifling  on 
that  night.  He  remembered  the  wan  face,  the  dark, 
anxious  face,  and  the  rough  red  beard  and  hair. 

To  be  sure  Franklin  was  dark-haired  and  sallow  in 
complexion ;  also  he  was  clean-shaved,  and  even  when 
not — according  to  Mrs.  Parry — had  worn  a  full  black 
beard.  But  the  red  hair  and  whiskers  might  have  been 
assumed  as  a  disguise.  Giles  did  not  know  verj^'  well  how 
to  verify  his  suspicions.  Then  he  determined  to  confide 
in  Morley.  Steel  had  told  him  that  the  proprietor  of  The 
Elms  was  an  ex-detective,  and  Giles  thoug-ht  that  for  the 


130  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  ML 

sake  of  avenging  Daisy's  death  he  might  be  induced  to 
take  up  his  old  trade.  With  this  idea  he  called  at  The 
Elms. 

JMorley  was  delighted  to  see  him  and  welcomed  him 
in  the  most  cheerful  manner.  He  and  Giles  were  always 
good  friends,  and  the  only  subject  of  contention  between 
them  was  the  question  of  Anne  s  guilt.  IMorley  still  be- 
lieved that  the  governess  had  committed  the  crime  and 
asked  after  her  at  the  outset  of  the  interview. 

"Have  you  found  her?"  he  asked,  just  as  Mrs.  Parry 
had  done. 

Giles  knew  quite  well  of  whom  he  was  speaking.  "No, 
I  have  not,"  he  answered ;  "and  if  I  had  I  certainly  should 
not  tell  you." 

"As  you  please,"  replied  the  little  man  complacently ; 
"you  will  never  see  the  truth." 

"It  is  not  the  truth.  But  see  here,  Morley,  what  is  the 
use  of  our  discussing  this  matter?  You  believe  Miss  Den- 
ham  to  be  guilty.  I  am  certain  that  she  is  innocent.  Let 
the  difference  between  us  rest  there.  Still,  if  I  could 
prove  the  innocence  of  Miss  Denham " 

"I  should  be  more  than  delighted,"  responded  Morley 
quickly,  "and  would  make  all  the  amends  in  my  power 
for  my  unjust  suspicions.  But  you  have  first  to  prove 
them  unjust.  Believe  me.  Ware,  I  admired  Miss  Denham 
as  much  as  my  wife  did,  and  thought  much  of  her.  I 
defended  her  from  poor  Daisy's  aspersions,  and  would 
have  stood  her  friend  all  through  but  for  this  last  act  of 
hers.  Well !  Well,  don't  get  angry.  I  am  willing  to  be 
shown  that  I  am  wrong.    Show  me." 

Giles  reflected  for  a  moment,  then  went  straight  to  the 
point. 

"I  have  been  with  Steel."  he  said  abruptly,  "and  he 
tells  me  that  you  have  been  in  the  detective  line  yourself." 


MRS.  BENKER  REAPPEARS.  131 

Morley  nodded.  "Quite  so,"  he  answered,  "although 
I  asked  Steel  to  say  nothing  about  it.  I  am  a  private  gen- 
tleman now,  and  I  don't  want  my  former  occupation  to 
be  known  in  Rickwell.  A  prejudice  exists  against  detec- 
tives. Ware.  People  don't  like  them,  because  every  one 
has  something  to  conceal,  and  with  a  trained  man  he  or 
she  is  afraid  lest  some  secret  sin  should  come  to  light." 

"It  may  be  so,  although  that  is  rather  a  cynical  way 
of  looking  at  the  matter.    But  you  are  really  Joe  Bart?" 

"Yes.  And  quite  at  your  service.  Only  keep  this 
quiet." 

"Certainly.  I  quite  appreciate  your  reasons  for  want- 
ing the  matter  kept  quiet.  But  see  here,  ]\Ir.  Morley — I 
shall  call  you  so." 

"It  will  be  better,"  replied  the  ex-detective  cheerfully; 
"and  I  have  a  sort  of  right  to  the  name.  It  was  my 
mother's." 

"Very  good.  Then  as  Morley  why  should  you  not  ex- 
ercise your  old  skill  and  help  me  to  find  out  who  killed 
Daisy?" 

"I  should  be  delighted,  and  what  skill  remains  to  me  is 
at  your  service.  But  I  am  rusty  now,  and  cannot  follow  a 
trail  with  my  old  persistence  or  talent.  Besides,  my  mind 
is  made  up  as  to  the  guilt " 

"Yes,  yes,"  interposed  Giles  hastily;  "you  think  so, 
but  I  don't  agree  with  you.  Now  listen  to  what  I  have 
to  tell  you,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  think  that  it  was  the 
man  who  killed  Daisy." 

"But  he  had  no  motive." 

"Yes,  he  had.    I'll  tell  it  to  you  concisely." 

Morley  looked  surprised  at  Giles'  insistence,  but  nodded 
without  a  word  and  waited  for  an  explanation.  Giles 
related  all  that  he  had  learned  about  Wilson,  and  how 
Steel  had  connected  him  with  the  supposed  clerk  who  had 


132  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

served  the  summons  on  Morley.  Then  he  proceeded  to 
detail  Steel's  belief  that  the  so-called  Wilson  was  a  bur- 
glar, and  mentioned  the  fact  of  the  yacht  with  the  strange 
name.  Morley  listened  in  silence,  but  interrupted  the 
recital  with  a  laugh,  when  the  scarlet  cross  was  mentioned 
in  connection  with  the  robbery  at  Lady  Summerdale's 
house. 

"Steel  has  found  a  mare's  nest  this  time,"  he  said  cool- 
ly. "He  knew  better  than  to  come  to  me  with  such  a 
cock  and  bull  story,  although  he  has  imposed  very  suc- 
cessfully on  you  and  on  that  Hungarian  Princess  you  talk 
of.    I  had  the  Summersdale  case  in  hand." 

"I  know.  Steel  said  that  you  carried  it  through  suc- 
cessfully." 

Morley  demurred.  "I  don't  know  if  you  can  say  that  I 
was  successful,  Ware.  It  was  not  one  of  my  lucky  cases. 
I  certainly  got  back  the  jewels.  I  found  them  in  their 
London  hiding-place,  but  I  did  not  catch  one  of  the 
thieves.    They  all  bolted." 

"In  Th^  Red  Cross  yacht." 

"Oh,  that's  all  rubbish,"  said  Morley  frankly;  "there 
were  a  great  many  yachts  at  Bexleigh  on  that  occasion. 
I  don't  remember  one  called  The  Red  Cross.  And  even  if 
one  of  that  name  was  there,  it  does  not  say  that  it  is  the 
same  that  was  off  Gravesend  the  other  day." 

"Six  months  ago,"  corrected  Giles  gravely;  "but  how 
do  you  account  for  the  fact  that  wherever  that  yacht  has 
been  burglaries  have  taken  place?" 

"I  can't  account  for  it.  and  Steel  has  yet  to  prove  that 
there  is  any  connection  between  the  yacht  and  the  rob- 
beries. He  thinks  it  a  kind  of  pirate  ship  evidently.  Not 
a  bad  idea,  tliough,"  added  I\Torley  musingly;  "the  goods 
could  be  rci^oved  easily  without  suspicion  on  board  a 
good-looking  yacht." 


MRS.  BENKER  REAPPEARS  133 

"And  that  is  what  has  been  done." 

"It  wasn't  in  the  matter  of  Lady  Summersdale's 
jewels,"  retorted  the  ex-detective.  "I  found  those  in  Lon- 
don, and  have  reason  to  beUeve  that  they  were  taken  there 
by  train.  Besides,  there  was  no  connection  between  the 
yacht  and  that  robbery." 

"Steel  said  that  a  scarlet  cross  was  found  in  the  safe, 
and " 

"And,"  interrupted  Morley,  "there  you  have  the  long 
arm  of  coincidence,  Ware.  That  cross  belonged  to  Lady 
Summersdale,  and  was  one  of  the  trinkets  left  behind. 
If  you  want  proof  on  this  point,  you  have  only  to  ask 

Lady no,  I  forgot,  she  is  dead.    However,  I  daresay 

her  son  or  daughter  will  be  able  to  prove  that  the  cross 
was  hers." 

Giles  was  much  disappointed  by  this  explanation,  which 
seemed  clear  enough.  And  if  any  one  should  know  the 
truth,  it  would  be  the  man  who  had  taken  charge  of  the 
case.    Failing  on  this  point,  Giles  shifted  his  ground. 

"Well,  Morley,"  he  said,  "I  am  not  very  anxious  to 
prove  this  man  Wilson  a  burglar.  He  is  a  murderer,  I 
am  sure,  and  the  greater  crime  swallows  up  the  lesser." 

"That  sounds  law,"  said  Morley,  lighting  a  cigar. 

"Well,  Ware,  I  don't  see  how  I  can  help  you.  This 
man  Wilson,  whether  he  is  innocent  or  guilty,  has  van- 
ished; and,  moreover,  his  connection,  if  any,  with  the 
Summersdale  robbery  of  ten  years  ago  won't  prove  him 
guilty  of  my  poor  ward's  death." 

"I  only  mentioned  that  to  show  his  connection  with  the 
yacht  at  Gravesend.  But  as  to  this  Wilson,  I  know  where 
he  is." 

Morley  wheeled  round  with  an  eager  light  in  his  eyes. 
"The  devil  you  do.    Where  is  he  ?" 

"At  the  Priory." 


134  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Is  this  a  joke?"  cried  Morley  angrily.  "If  so,  it  is  a 
very  poor  one,  Ware.  The  man  who  Hvcs  at  the  Priory 
is  my  friend  Franklin " 

"He  is  also  the  man  who  was  in  the  church  on  New 
Year's  Eve — the  man  who  killed  Daisy,  as  I  truly  be- 
lieve." 

Giles  went  on  to  state  wiiat  his  reasons  were  for  this 
belief.  All  at  once  Morley  started  to  his  feet.  "Ah!  I 
know  now  why  something  about  him  seemed  to  be  familiar 
to  me.    What  a  fool  I  am  !    I  believe  you  are  right,  Ware." 

"What?    That  he  is  this  man  Wilson?" 

"I  don't  know  what  his  former  name  was,"  replied 
Morley,  with  a  shrug,  "but  now  you  mention  it  I  fancy 
he  is  the  man  who  served  the  summons  on  me." 

"You  ought  to  know,"  said  Ware  dryly ;  "you  saw 
him  in  this  room,  and  in  a  good  light." 

"True  enough,  Ware;  but  all  the  time  he  kept  his  col- 
lar up  and  that  white  scarf  round  his  throat.  His  chin 
was  quite  buried  in  it.  And  then  he  had  a  rough  red — 
wig,  shall  we  say  ?  and  a  red  beard.  I  didn't  trouble  to 
ask  him  to  make  himself  comfortable.  All  I  wanted  was 
to  get  him  out  of  the  way.  But  I  remember  his  black 
eyes.  Franklin  has  eyes  like  that,  and  sometimes  I  catch 
myself  wondering  where  I  have  seen  him  before.  He 
tells  me  he  has  lived  in  Florence  these  six  years  and  more. 
T  fancied  that  when  I  was  a  detective  I  might  have  seen 
him,  but  he  insisted  that  he  had  not  been  to  London  for 
years  and  years.  He  originally  came  from  the  States. 
And  I  was  once  a  detective!  Good  Lord,  how  I  have 
lost  my  old  cleverness !  But  to  be  sure  I  have  been  idle 
these  ten  years." 

"Then  you  think  Franklin  is  this  man?" 

"I  think  so,  but  of  course  I  can't  be  sure.  Naturally  he 
will  deny  that  he  is,  and  I  can't  prove  the  matter  myself. 


MRS.  BENKER  REAPPEARS  135 

But  I  tell  you  what,  Ware,"  said  Morley  suddenly,  "get 
that  woman  Wilson  lodged  with  down,  and  see  if  she  will 
recognize  Franklin  as  her  former  lodger.  She,  if  any 
one,  will  know  him,  and  perhaps  throw  him  off  his  guard." 

Ware  rose.  "A  very  good  idea,"  he  said.  "I'll  write  to 
her  at  once.  I  am  certain  this  is  the  man,  especially  as  he 
has  inherited  Daisy's  money.  He  killed  her  in  order  to 
get  the  fortune,  and  that  was  why  he  kept  asking  Asher's 
office  boy  about  money  left  to  people." 

"Ah !"  Morley  looked  thoughtful.  "So  that  was  the 
motive,  you  think?" 

"I  am  sure  of  it,  and  a  quite  strong  enough  motive  for 
many  people,"  said  Ware  grimly.  "If  Mrs.  Benker  can 
verify  this  man,  I'll  have  him  arrested.  He  will  have  to 
explain  why  he  came  here  instead  of  the  office  boy,  and 
why  he  fled  on  that  night." 

"Yes,  yes!"  cried  Morley  excitedly.  "And  he  might 
perhaps  explain  why  the  governess  helped  him  to  escape." 

"Ah  !"  Giles'  face  fell.  "So  he  might ;  but  if  he  dares 
to  inculpate  her  in  this  crime " 

"Ware,"  said  Morley,  laying  his  hand  on  the  young 
man's  shoulder,  "if  I  were  you  I  should  do  nothing  rash. 
Every  one  thinks  that  Miss  Denham  is  guilty.  If  this 
Franklin  is  the  man  who  fled  with  her,  he  will  accuse  her 
to  save  himself.  Certainly  there  is  the  motive  of  the 
money,  but  that  might  be  explained  away." 

"I  don't  see  how  it  can." 

"Nor  I ;  still,  there  is  always  the  chance.  Again,  he 
may  take  alarm — always  presuming  he  is  the  man — and 
fly.  I  tell  you  what,  Ware,  you  bring  Mrs.  Benker  down, 
and  take  her  into  the  grounds  of  the  Priory.  I  will  ar- 
range that  Franklin,  without  suspecting  her  or  us,  shall 
meet  her,  accidentally,  at  some  place  where  we  can  hide. 
Then  we  can  overhear  if  he  is  the  man  or  not." 


136  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"He'll  deny  that  he  is." 

"Why  should  he  ?  There  is  nothing,  so  far  as  he  knows, 
that  Mrs.  Bcnker  can  lay  hold  of.  If  he  is  the  man  he 
will  admit  his  identity,  if  not,  he  will  explain  who  he  is. 
Whereas  if  we  show  ourselves  and  show  that  we  suspect 
him,  he  will  be  on  his  guard.  No,  Ware;  better  let  the 
woman  meet  him  by  chance." 

"It's  a  good  plan,"  replied  Giles,  shaking  hands  hearti- 
ly with  Morley.  "I  am  delighted  that  you  should  co- 
operate with  me.  We  will  yet  prove  that  Anne  is  inno- 
cent." 

"I  hope  so,"  cried  his  host,  slapping  Giles  on  the  back. 
"Off  with  you,  Ware,  to  do  your  part.  I'll  attend  to 
Franklin.  But  say  no  word  of  our  plan  to  any  one.  Upon 
my  word,"  cried  he  jubilantly,  "I  feel  just  as  though  I 
were  in  the  profession  again."  And  thus  laughing  and 
joking,  he  sent  his  visitor  away  in  the  best  of  spirits. 

Delighted  that  he  had  some  one  to  help  him,  Giles  lost 
no  time  in  performing  his  part  of  the  business.  He  sent 
a  letter  to  Mrs.  Benker,  asking  her  to  come  down  for  a 
couple  of  days.  It  was  his  intention  to  invite  Alexander 
also,  as  the  boy  would  also  be  useful  in  identifying  Frank- 
lin as  his  mother's  former  lodger;  but  since  leaving 
Asher's  Alexander  had  been  taken  up  by  Steel,  who  saw 
in  him  the  makings  of  a  good  detective.  If  Alexander 
learned  anything  he  would  certainly  tell  his  master,  and 
then  Steel  would  come  down  to  interfere.  Ware  did  not 
want  him  to  meddle  with  the  matter  at  present.  He 
wished  to  be  sure  of  his  ground  first,  and  then  would  ask 
the  assistance  of  the  detective  to  have  Franklin  arrested. 
Of  course,  he  had  every  confidence  in  Steel,  but  for  the 
above  reason  he  determined  to  keep  his  present  action 
quiet.  Also,  Steel  was  on  the  south  coast,  hunting  for 
evidence  concerning  The  Red  Cross  yacht,  and  would  not 


MRS.  BENKER  REAPPEARS  137 

be  pleased  at  being  taken  away  to  follow  what  might 
prove  to  be  a  false  trail.  Ware  therefore  said  nothing 
to  Mrs.  Benker  about  what  he  desired  to  see  her,  but 
simply  asked  her  to  come  down  on  a  visit. 

There  was  a  prospect  of  his  having  another  visitor, 
and  one  he  did  not  much  wish  to  meet.  This  was  the 
Princess  Karacsay.  Several  times  he  had  called  to  see 
her,  but  she  had  always  put  off  her  promised  explanation 
on  some  plea  or  another.  Instead  of  attending  strictly  to 
the  business  which  had  brought  them  together,  she  made 
herself  agreeable  to  Giles — too  agreeable  he  thought,  for 
he  had  by  this  time  got  it  into  his  head  that  Olga  Karac- 
say was  in  love  with  him.  He  was  not  a  vain  young  man, 
and  tried  to  think  that  her  attentions  were  merel}-  friend- 
ly; but  she  was  so  persistent  in  her  invitations  and — in 
the  slang  phrase — made  such  running  with  him,  that  he 
grew  rather  nervous  of  her  attentions.  Several  times  she 
had  proposed  to  come  on  a  visit  to  Rickwell,  but  hitherto 
he  had  always  managed  to  put  her  off.  But  her  letters 
were  becoming  very  imperative,  and  he  foresaw  trouble. 
It  was  quite  a  relief  to  Giles  when  the  post  arrived  with- 
out a  letter  from  this  too  persistent  and  too  charming  lady. 
However,  she  did  not  trouble  him  on  this  especial  occa- 
sion, and  he  was  thus  enabled  to  give  all  his  time  to  Mrs. 
Benker. 

That  good  lady  duly  arrived,  looking  more  severe  than 
ever  and  with  several  new  tales  about  the  iniquities  of 
Alexander.  She  expressed  herself  greatly  obliged  to 
Giles  for  giving  her  a  day  in  the  country,  and  got  on  very 
well  with  the  old  housekeeper.  But  when  Ware  told  her 
his  reason  for  asking  her,  Mrs.  Benker  grew  rather  nerv- 
ous, as  she  did  not  think  how  she  could  support  an  inter- 
view, and,  also,  she  wanted  to  know  what  the  interview 
was  for.    To  some  extent  Giles  had  to  take  her  into  his 


138  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  \II. 

confidence,  but  he  suppressed  the  fact  that  he  suspected 
Franklin  of  the  crime.  He  merely  stated  that  Steel — who 
had  introduced  Giles  to  Mrs.  Benker — had  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  the  so-called  Wilson  was  wanted  by  the  police. 
All  that  Mrs.  Benker  had  to  do  was  to  see  if  Franklin 
was  really  her  former  lodger.  After  much  talk  and  many 
objections,  she  consented  to  do  what  was  wanted. 

This  was  to  wander  in  the  park  of  the  Prior)'  and  meet 
Franklin  accidentally  near  a  ruined  summer-house,  near 
what  was  known  as  the  fish-ponds.  Morley  had  arranged 
that  Franklin  should  meet  him  there,  and  was  to  be  late, 
so  as  to  afford  Mrs.  Benker  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to 
the  man.  Morley  and  Ware  concealed  themselves  in  the 
summer-house  and  saw  Mrs.  Benker  parading  the  grass. 
Shortly  Franklin  arrived,  walking  slowly,  and  Mrs.  Ben- 
ker saluted  him. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

TREASURE    TROVE 

<  ^f  BEG  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Benlcer  to  the  new- 

1    comer,  "but  I  do  hope    I'm    not Why" — she 

changed  her  tone  to  one  of  extreme  surprise — "if  it  ain't 
Mr.  Wilson !" 

The  man  did  not  move  a  muscle.  Ware,  who  was 
watching,  was  disappointed.  At  least  he  expected  him 
to  start,  but  the  so-called  Wilson  was  absolutely  calm, 
and  his  voice  did  not  falter. 

"You  are  making  a  mistake ;  my  name  is  Franklin." 

"It  isn't  his  voice,"  muttered  the  landlady,  still  staring; 
"but  his  eyes  are  the  same." 

"May  I  ask  you  to  go?"  said  Franklin,  "You  are  tres- 
passing." 

Mrs.  Benker  shook  her  rusty  black  bonnet. 

"You  may  change  your  hair  from  red  to  black,"  she 
declared,  "and  you  may  shave  off  a  ginger  beard,  but  you 
can't  alter  your  eyes.  Mr.  Wilson  you  are,  and  that  I'll 
swear  to  in  a  court  of  law  before  a  judge  and  jury.  Let 
them  say  what  they  will  about  me  being  a  liar." 

"Of  what  are  you  talking,  woman  ?" 

"Of  you,  sir ;  and  I  hope  I  may  mention  that  you  were 
more  respectful  when  you  boarded  with  me." 


140  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Boarded  with  you !"  Franklin  stared,  and  spoke  in  an 
astonished  tone.  "Why,  I  never  boarded  with  you  in  my 
life!" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Wilson,  how  can  you  ?  What  about  my  little 
house  in  Lambeth,  and  the  dear  boy — my  son  Alexander — 
you  were  so  fond  of?" 

"You  are  raving." 

"I'm  as  sane  as  you  are,"  said  the  landlady,  her  color 
rising,  "and  a  deal  more  respectable,  if  all  were  known. 
Why  you  should  deny  me  to  my  face  is  more  than  I  can 
make  out,  Mr.  Wilson." 

"My  name  is  not  Wilson." 

"And  I  say  it  is,  sir." 

Both  the  man  and  the  woman  eyed  one  another  firmly. 
Then  Franklin  motioned  Mrs.  Benker  to  a  seat  on  a  mossy 
bank. 

"We  can  talk  better  sitting,"  said  he.  "I  should  like 
an  explanation  of  this.  You  say  that  my  name  is  Wilson, 
and  that  I  boarded  with  you." 

"At  Lambeth.    I'll  take  my  oath  to  it." 

"Had  your  boarder  red  hair  and  a  red  beard?" 

"Red  as  a  tomato.  But  you  can  buy  wigs  and  false 
beards.    Eyes,  as  I  say,  you  cannot  change." 

"Had  this  Wilson  eyes  like  mine  ?"  asked  Frankly  eager- 

ly. 

"There  ain't  a  scrap  of  difference,  Mr.  Wilson.  Your 
eyes  are  the  same  now  as  they  were  then." 

"One  moment.  Had  this  man  you  think  me  to  be  two 
teeth  missing  in  his  lower  jaw — two  front  teeth?" 

"He  had.    Not  that  his  teeth  were  of  the  best." 

Franklin  drew  down  his  lip. 

"You  will  see  that  I  have  all  my  teeth." 

"H'm !"  Mrs.  Benker  sniffed.  "False  teeth  can  be 
bought." 


TREASURE  TROVE  141 

"1  fear  you  would  find  these  teeth  only  too  genuine," 
said  the  man  quietly.  "But  I  quite  understand  your  mis- 
take." 

"My  mistake  ?"  Mrs.  Benker  shook  her  head  vehement- 
ly.   *T'm  not  the  one  to  make  mistakes." 

"On  this  occasion  you  have  done  so;  but  the  mistake 
is  pardonable.    Mrs. — Mrs. — what  is  your  name  ?" 

"Mrs.  Benker,  sir.    And  you  know  it." 

"Excuse  me,  I  do  not  know  it.  The  man  who  was  your 
lodger,  and  whom  you  accuse  me  of  being,  is  my  brother." 

"Your  brother !"  echoed  the  landlady,  amazed. 

"Yes,  and  a  bad  lot  he  is.  Never  did  a  hand's  turn  in 
all  his  life.  I  daresay  while  he  was  with  you  he  kept  the 
most  irregular  hours?" 

"He  did — most  irregular." 

"Out  all  night  at  times,  and  in  all  day?  And  again, 
out  all  day  and  in  for  the  night  ?" 

"You  describe  him  exactly."  Mrs.  Benker  peered  into 
the  clean-shaven  face  in  a  puzzled  manner.  "Your  hair 
is  black,  your  voice  is  changed,  and  only  the  eyes  remain." 

"My  brother  and  I  have  eyes  exactly  the  same.  I 
guessed  your  mistake  when  you  spoke.  \  assure  you  I 
am  not  my  brother." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  the  woman,  beginning  to  think  she  had 
made  a  mistake  after  all,  "I  will  say  your  voice  is  not  like 
his.  It  was  low  and  soft,  while  yours,  if  you'll  excuse  me 
mentioning  it,  is  hard,  and  not  at  all  what  I'd  call  a  love- 
voice." 

Grim  as  Franklin  was,  he  could  not  help  laughing  at 
this  last  remark. 

"I  quite  understand.  You  only  confirm  what  I  say. 
My  brother  has  a  beautiful  voice,  Mrs.  Benker ;  and  much 
harm  he  has  done  with  it  amongst  your  sex." 

"He  never  harmed  me,"  said  Mrs.  Benker,  bridling.    "I 


142  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

am  a  respectable  woman  and  a  widow  with  one  son.  But 
your  brother " 

"He's  a  blackguard,"  interrupted  Franklin ;  "hand  and 
glove  with  the  very  worst  people  in  London.  You  may 
be  thankful  he  did  not  cut  your  throat  or  steal  your  furni- 
ture." 

"Lord !"  cried  ]\Irs.  Benkcr,  astounded,  "was  he  that 
dangerous?" 

"He  is  so  dangerous  that  he  ought  to  be  shut  up.  And 
if  I  could  lay  hands  on  him  I'd  get  the  police  to  shut  him 
up.  He's  done  no  end  of  mischief.  Now  I  daresay  he 
had  a  red  cross  dangling  from  his  watch-chain." 

"Yes,  he  had.    What  does  it  mean  ?" 

"I  can't  tell  you ;  but  I'd  give  a  good  deal  to  know. 
He  has  hinted  to  me  that  it  is  the  sign  of  some  criminal 
fraternity  with  which  he  is  associated.  I  never  could 
learn  what  the  object  of  the  cross  is.  He  always  kept 
quiet  on  that  subject.  But  I  have  not  seen  him  for  years, 
and  then  only  when  I  was  on  a  flying  visit  from  Italy." 

"Have  you  been  to  Italy,  sir?" 

"I  live  there,"  said  Franklin,  "at  Florence.  I  have  lived 
there  for  over  ten  years,  with  an  occasional  visit  to  Lon- 
don. If  you  still  think  that  I  am  my  brother,  I  can  bring 
witnesses  to  prove '' 

"Lord,  sir,  I  don't  want  to  prove  nothing.  Now  I  look 
at  you  and  hear  your  voice  I  do  say  as  I  made  a  mistake 
as  I  humbly  beg  your  pardon  for.  But  you  are  so  like 
Mr.  Wilson "  ' 

"I  know,  and  I  forgive  you.  But  why  do  you  wish  to 
find  my  brother?  He  has  been  up  to  some  rascality,  I 
suppose  ?" 

"He  has.  though  what  it  is  I  know  no  more  than  a 
babe.  But  they  do  say,"  added  Mrs.  Benker,  sinking  her 
voice,  "as  the  police  want  him." 


TREASURE  TROVE  143 

"I'm  not  at  all  astonished.  He  has  placed  himself  with- 
in the  reach  of  the  law  a  hundred  times.  If  the  police 
come  to  me,  I'll  tell  them  what  I  have  told  you.  No  one 
would  be  more  pleased  than  I  to  see  Walter  laid  by  the 
heels." 

"Is  his  name  Walter?" 

"Yes,  Walter  Franklin,  although  he  chooses  to  call  him- 
self Wilson.    My  name  is  George.    He  is  a  blackguard." 

"Oh,  sir,  your  flesh  and  blood." 

"He's  no  brother  of  mine,"  said  Franklin,  rising,  with 
a  snarl.  "I  hate  the  man.  He  had  traded  on  his  resem- 
blance to  me  to  get  money  and  do  all  manner  of  scoundrel- 
ly actions.  That  was  why  I  went  to  Italy.  It  seems  that 
I  did  wisely,  for  if  I  could  not  prove  that  I  have  been 
abroad  these  ten  years,  you  would  swear  that  I  was  Wal- 
ter." 

"Oh,  no,  sir — really."    Mrs.  Benker  rose  also. 

"Nonsense.  You  swore  that  I  was  Walter  when  we 
first  met.  Take  a  good  look  at  me  now,  so  that  you  may 
be  sure  that  I  am  not  he.  I  don't  want  to  have  his  ras- 
calities placed  on  my  shoulders." 

Mrs.  Benker  took  a  good  look  and  sighed.  "You're 
not  him,  but  you're  very  like.  May  I  ask  if  you  are 
twins,  sir?" 

"No.  Our  eyes  are  the  only  things  that  we  have  in 
common.  We  got  those  from  our  mother,  who  was  an 
Italian.  I  take  after  my  mother,  and  am  black,  as  you 
see  me.  My  brother  favored  my  father,  who  was  as  red 
as  an  autumn  sunset." 

"He  was  indeed  red,"  sighed  Mrs.  Benker,  wrapping 
her  shawl  round  her;  "and  now,  sir,  I  hope  you'll  hum- 
bly forgive  me  for " 

"That's  all  right,  Mrs.  Benker.    I  only  explained  myself 


144  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

at  length  because  I  am  so  sick  of  having  my  brother's  sins 
imputed  on  me.    I  hope  lie  paid  your  rent." 

*'Oh,  yes,  sir,  he  did  that  reg'ularly." 

"Indeed,"  sneered  Frankhn ;  "then  he  is  more  honest 
than  I  gave  him  credit  for  being.  Because  if  he  had  not 
paid  you  I  should  have  done  so.  You  seem  to  be  a  de- 
cent woman  and " 

"A  widow !"  murmured  Mrs.  Benker,  hoping  that  he 
would  give  her  some  money.  But  this  Air.  Franklin  had 
no  intention  of  doing. 

"You  can  go  now,"  he  said,  pointing  with  his  stick  to- 
wards an  ornamental  bridge ;  "that  is  the  best  way  to  the 
high-road.  And,  Mrs.  Benker,  if  my  brother  should  re- 
turn to  you  let  me  know." 

"And  the  police,  sir,"  she  faltered. 

"I'll  tell  the  police  myself,"  said  the  man,  frowning. 
"Good  day." 

Mrs.  Benker,  rather  disappointed  that  she  should  have 
received  no  money,  and  wishing  that  she  had  said  Walter 
Franklin  had  not  paid  her  rent,  crept  off,  a  lugubrious  fig- 
ure, across  the  bridge.  Franklin  watched  her  till  she  was 
out  of  sight,  then  took  off  his  hat,  exposing  a  high,  bald- 
ish  head.  His  face  was  dark,  and  he  began  to  mutter  to 
himself.    Finally,  he  spoke  articulately.  . 

"Am  I  never  to  be  rid  of  that  scamp?"  he  said,  shak- 
ing his  fist  at  the  sky.  "I  have  lived  in  Italy — in  exile, 
so  that  I  should  not  be  troubled  with  his  schemes  and  ras- 
calities. I  have  buried  myself  here,  with  my  daughter  and 
those  three  who  are  faithful  to  me,  in  order  that  he  may 
not  find  me  out.  And  now  I  hear  of  him.  That  woman. 
She  is  a  spy  of  his.  I  believe  she  came  here  from  him 
with  a  made-up  story.  Walter  will  come,  and  then  I'll 
have  to  buy  him  oft*.  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  so.  But  to  be 
blackmailed  by  that  reptile.    No!  I'll  go  back  to  Florence 


TREASURE  TROVE  145 

first."  He  replaced  his  hat  and  began  to  dig  his  stick  in 
the  ground.  "I  wonder  if  jMorley  would  help  me.  He  is 
a  shrewd  man.  He  might  advise  me  how  to  deal  with  this 
wretched  brother  of  mine,  li  I  could  only  trust  him?" 
He  looked  round.  "1  wonder  where  he  is?  He  promised 
to  meet  me  half  an  hour  ago."  Here  Franklin  glanced  at 
his  watch.  "I'll  walk  over  to  The  Elms  and  ask  who  this 
woman,  Mrs.  Benker,  is.    He  may  know." 

All  this  was  delivered  audibly  and  at  intervals.  Giles 
was  not  astonished,  as  he  knew  from  Mrs.  Parry  that  the 
man  was  in  the  habit  of  talking  aloud  to  himself.  But 
he  was  disappointed  to  receive  such  a  clear  proof  that 
Franklin  was  not  the  man  who  had  eloped  with  Anne. 
Even  if  he  had  been  deceiving  Mrs.  Benker  (which  was 
not  to  be  thought  of),  he  would  scarcely  have  spoken  in 
soliloquy  as  he  did  if  he  had  not  been  the  man  he  asserted 
himself  to  be.  Giles,  saying  nothing  to  his  companion, 
watched  Franklin  in  silence  until  he  was  out  of  sight, 
and  then  rose  to  stretch  his  long  legs,  Morley,  with  a 
groan,  followed  his  example.     It  was  he  who  spoke  first. 

"I  am  half  dead  with  the  cramp,"  said  he,  rubbing  his 
stout  leg,  "just  like  old  times  when  I  hid  in  a  cupboard 
at  Mother  Meddlers,  to  hear  Black  Bill  give  himself  away 
over  a  burglar\%  Ay,  and  I  nearly  sneezed  that  time, 
which  would  have  cost  me  my  life.  I  have  been  safe 
enough  in  that  summer-house — ^but  the  cramp — owch  !" 

"It  seems  I  have  been  mistaken,"  was  all  Giles  could 
say. 

"So  have  I,  so  was  IMrs.  Benker.  We  are  all  in  the 
same  box.  The  man  is  evidently  very  like  his  scamp  of  a 
brother." 

"No  doubt,  Morley.    But  he  isn't  the  brother  himself." 

"IMore's  the  pity,  for  Franklin's  sake  as  well  as  our 


146  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  MI. 

own.    He  seems  to  hate  his  brother  fairly  and  would  be 
willing  to  give  him  up  to  the  law — if  he's  done  anything." 

"Well,"  said  Ware,  beginning  to  walk,  "this  Walter 
Franklin — to  give  him  his  real  name — has  committed  mur- 
der. I  am  more  convinced  than  ever  that  he  is  the  guilty 
person.  But  1  don't  see  what  he  has  to  do  with  Anne. 
Her  father  is  certainly  dead — died  at  Florence.  Ha !  Mor- 
ley.  Franklin  comes  from  Florence.  He  may  know — he 
may  have  heard." 

Morley  nodded.  "You're  quite  right,  Ware.  I'll  ask 
him  about  the  matter.  Humph !"  The  ex-detective  stop- 
ped for  a  moment.  "This  involuntary  confession  clears 
George  Franklin." 

"Yes.    He  is  innocent  enough." 

"Well,  but  he  inherited  the  money,"  said  Morley.  "It's 
queer  that  his  brother,  according  to  you,  should  have 
killed  the  girl  who  kept  the  fortune  from  him." 

"It  is  strange.  But  it  might  be  that  Walter  Franklin 
intended  to  play  the  part  of  his  brother  and  get  the  money, 
counting  on  the  resemblance  between  them." 

"That's  true  enough.  Yet  if  George  were  in  Italy  and 
within  hail,  so  to  speak,  I  don't  see  how  that  would  have 
done.  Why  not  come  to  The  Elms  with  me  and  speak  to 
Franklin  yourself?    He  will  be  waiting  for  me  there." 

"No,"  answered  Ware  after  some  thought,  "he  evi- 
dently intends  to  trust  you,  and  if  I  come  he  may  hold 
his  tongue.  You  draw  him  out,  Morley,  and  then  you  can 
tell  me.    Mrs.  Benker " 

"I'll  say  nothing  about  her.  I  am  not  supposed  to  know 
that  she  is  a  visitor  to  Rickwcll.  He'll  suspect  our  game 
if  I  chatter  about  her.  Ware.  We  must  be  cautious.  This 
is  a  difficult  skein  to  unravel." 

"It  is  that,"  assented  Giles  dolefully,  "and  we're  no 
further  on  with  it  than  we  were  before." 


TREASURE  TROVE  I47. 

"Nonsense,  man.  We  have  found  out  Wilson's  real 
name." 

"Well,  that  is  something  certainly,  and  his  brother  may 
be  able  to  put  us  on  his  track.  If  he  asks  about  Mrs. 
Benker,  say  that  she  is  a  friend  of  my  housekeeper.  You 
can  say  you  heard  it  from  your  wife." 

"I'll  say  no  more  than  is  necessary,"  replied  IMorley 
cunningly.  "I  learned  in  my  detective  days  to  keep  a 
shut  mouth.  Well,  I'll  be  off  and  see  what  I  can  get  out 
of  him." 

When  Morley  departed  at  his  fast  little  trot — he  got 
over  the  ground  quickly  for  so  small  a  man — Giles  wan- 
dered about  the  Priory  park.  He  thought  that  he  might 
meet  with  the  daughter,  and  see  what  kind  of  a  person 
she  was.  If  weak  in  the  head,  as  Mrs.  Parry  declared 
her  to  be,  she  might  chatter  about  her  Uncle  Walter. 
Giles  wished  to  find  out  all  he  could  about  that  scamp. 
He  was  beginning  to  feel  afraid  for  Anne,  and  to  wonder 
in  what  way  she  was  connected  with  such  a  blackguard. 

However,  he  saw  nothing  and  turned  his  face  home- 
ward. Just  as  he  was  leaving  the  park  on  the  side  near 
the  cemetery  he  saw  something  glittering  in  the  grass. 
This  he  picked  up,  and  was  so  amazed  that  he  could  only 
stare  at  it  dumb-founded.  And  his  astonishment  was 
little  to  be  wondered  at.  He  held  in  his  hand  a  half- 
sovereign  with  an  amethyst,  a  diamond,  and  a  pearl  set 
into  the  gold.  It  was  the  very  ornament  which  he  had 
given  Anne  Denham  on  the  night  of  the  children's 
party  at  The  Elms — the  coin  of  His  Most  Gracious  Ma- 
jesty King  Edward  VII. 


CHAPTER  XV 

AN  AWKWARD  INTERVIEW 

THE  discovery  of  the  coin  perplexed  Giles.  It  was 
certainly  the  trinket  attached  to  the  bangle  which 
he  had  given  Anne.  And  here  he  found  it  in  the  grounds 
of  the  Priory.  This  would  argue  that  she  was  in  the 
neighborhood,  in  the  house  it  might  be.  She  had  never 
been  to  the  Priory  when  living  at  The  Elms,  certainly  not 
after  the  New  Year,  when  she  first  became  possessed  of 
the  coin.  He  decided,  therefore,  that  at  some  late  period 
— within  the  last  few  days — she  had  been  in  the  park, 
and  there  had  lost  the  coin.  It  would,  indeed,  be  strange 
if  this  trifling  present  which  he  had  made  her  should  be 
the  means  of  tracing  her  to  her  hiding-place. 

And  that  hiding-place  was  the  Priory.  Giles  felt  sure 
of  this.  If  she  was  in  the  neighborhood  and  walking 
about  openly,  she  would  be  discovered  and  arrested. 
Therefore  she  must  be  concealed  in  the  house.  She  had 
gone  off  with  Walter  Franklin,  and  here  she  was  under 
the  wing  of  his  brother  George.  The  case  grew  more 
mysterious  and  perplexing  as  time  went  on.  Giles  did 
not  know  which  way  to  turn,  or  what  advantage  to  reap 
from  this  discovery. 

Certainly,  if  he  could  get  into  the  Priory  and  search 


AN  AWKWARD  INTERVIEW  149 

the  house,  he  might  discover  Anne.  Or,  it  might  be,  that 
if  he  confided  in  Franklin  and  told  him  of  his  love  for 
Anne,  the  man  might  tell  the  truth  and  let  him  have  an 
interview.  But  the  matter  took  some  thinking  out.  He 
decided  to  let  it  remain  in  abeyance  at  present.  After 
kissing  the  coin — had  it  not  been  Anne's  ? — he  slipped  it 
into  his  v^^aistcoat-pocket  and  returned  home. 

Here  a  surprise,  and  not  a  very  agreeable  one,  awaited 
him.  He  reached  his  house  just  in  time  to  dress  for 
dinner,  and  found  a  letter,  which  had  been  delivered  by 
hand.  It  was  from  Olga  Karacsay,  and  announced  that 
she  and  her  mother  were  stopping  at  the  village  inn.  She 
asked  Giles  to  come  over  that  evening,  as  she  wished  to 
introduce  him  to  the  elder  Princess.  Ware  was  vexed 
that  this  inopportune  visit  should  have  taken  place  at  the 
moment.  He  did  not  wish  to  be  introduced  to  Olga's 
mother,  and  had  more  to  do  than  to  chatter  French  to  a 
foreign  lady.  However,  being  naturally  a  most  polite 
young  gentleman,  he  could  not  refuse  the  request,  and 
after  dinner  proceeded  to  the  village. 

Morris,  the  landlord  of  "The  Merry  Dancer" — which 
was  the  name  of  the  inn — was  a  burly  man,  and  usually 
extremely  self-important.  On  this  night  he  excelled  him- 
self, and  looked  as  swollen  as  the  frog  in  the  fable.  That 
two  Princesses  should  stay  in  his  house  was  an  honor 
■which  overwhelmed  him.  To  be  sure,  they  were  foreign- 
ers, which  made  a  difference;  still,  they  had  titles,  and 
plenty  of  money,  and  for  all  Morris  knew — as  he  observed 
to  his  flustered  wife — might  be  exiled  sovereigns.  Mor- 
ris received  Giles  in  his  best  clothes,  and  bowed  himself 
to  the  ground. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Ware,  their  Highnesses  are  within — on  the 
first  floor,  Mr.  Ware,  having  engaged  a  salon  and  two 
bedrooms." 


ISO  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"I  didn't  know  you  had  a  salon,  Morris!"  said  Giles, 
his  eyes  twinkling. 

"For  the  time  being  I  call  it  such,"  replied  the  land- 
lord grandly.  "My  daughter  is  a  French  scholar,  Mr. 
Ware,  and  called  the  sitting-room  by  that  name.  Me 
and  Mrs.  Morris  and  Henrietta  Morris  wish  to  make  their 
Highnesses  feel  at  home.  Allow  me  to  conduct  you,  sir, 
to  the  salon  of  their  Highnesses.  The  garkong  is  en- 
gaged with  the  dejune,  along  with  the  femmie  de  cham- 
bers, who  also  waits." 

"You  are  quite  a  French  scholar,  Morris." 

"Henrietta  Morris,  my  daughter — or  I  should  say,  mon 
filly — has  instructed  me  in  the  languidge,  sir.  This  way 
to  the  salon,  sir,"  and  Morris  marshalled  the  way  with  the 
air  of  a  courtier  of  Louis  XIV. 

Giles  entered  the  sitting-room,  which  was  pretty  and 
quaint  but  extremely  unpretentious,  bubbling  over  with 
laughter. 

Olga  came  forward,  and  catdiing  sight  of  his  face, 
laughed  also  as  she  shook  hands  with  him. 

"I  see  you  know  the  jest,"  she  said. 

"Morris  informed  me  of  it  as  soon  as  I  entered  his 
door.     Why  have  you  come  down  to  this  dull  place,  Prin- 


cess 


"Ah,  no" — she  made  a  pretty  gesture  of  annoyance — 
"you  must  to-night  call  me  Olga " 

"I  should  not  think  of  taking  such  a  liberty,"  said  Giles 
quickly. 

Olga  pouted.  "Then,  Mademoiselle  Olga,"  said  she, 
"my  mother  you  must  call  the  Princess  Karacsay.  Will 
you  allow  me,  Mr.  Ware,  to  present  you  to  my  mother?" 

She  led  the  young  man  forward,  and  he  found  himself 
bowing  to  a  stout  lady,  who  at  one  time  must  have  been 
beautiful,  but  in  whom  age  had  destroyed  a  great  amount 


AN  AWKWARD  INTERVIEW  151 

of  her  good  looks.  She  was  darker  than  her  daughter, 
and  had  a  languid,  indolent  air,  which  seemed  to  account 
for  her  stoutness.  Evidently  she  never  took  exercise. 
Her  face  was  still  beautiful,  and  she  had  the  most  glori- 
ous pair  of  dark  eyes.  Her  hair  was  silvery,  and  con- 
trasted strangely  with  her  swart  face.  One  would  have 
thought  that  she  had  African  blood  in  her.  She  wore  a 
yellow  dress  trimmed  with  black  lace,  and  many  jewels 
twinkled  on  her  neck  and  arms  and  in  her  hair.  Her 
tastes,  like  her  appearance,  were  evidently  barbaric.  In 
this  cold,  misty  island  she  looked  like  some  gorgeous  trop- 
ical bird  astray. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Ware,"  she  said  in  soft, 
languid  tones,  yet  with  a  kind  of  rough  burr ;  "my  daugh- 
ter has  often  talked  of  you."  Her  English  was  very  good, 
and  there  was  little  trace  of  a  foreign  accent.  Yet  the 
occasional  lisp  and  the  frequent  roughness  added  a 
piquancy  to  her  tones.  Even  at  her  age — and  she  was 
considerably  over  fifty — she  was  undeniably  a  fascinating 
woman :  in  her  youth  she  must  have  been  a  goddess  both 
for  looks  and  charm.  Olga  was  regal  and  charming,  but 
her  mother  excelled  her.  Giles  found  himself  becoming 
quite  enchanted  with  this  Cleopatra  of  the  West. 

"You  have  been  long  in  England,  Princess  ?"  he  asked. 

"But  a  week.  I  came  to  see  Olga.  She  would  have 
me  come,  although  I  dislike  travelling.  But  I  am  fond 
of  Olga." 

"It  is  more  than  my  father  is,"  said  Olga,  with  a  shrug; 
"he  would  not  come.  I  suppose  he  thinks  that  I  have 
disgraced  him." 

"My  dear  child,"  reproved  her  mother,  "you  know  what 
your  father's  opinion  is  about  this  wild  life  you  lead." 

"A  very  hard-working  life,"   retorted  her  daughter; 


152  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

**singing  is  not  easy.  For  the  rest,  I  assure  you  I  am 
respectable." 

"It  is  not  the  hfe  for  a  Karacsay,  my  dear.  If  you 
would  only  come  back  to  Vienna  and  marry  the  man  your 
father " 

"I  choose  for  myself  when  I  marry,"  flashed  out  Olga, 
with  a  glance  at  the  uncomfortable  Giles.  "Count  Taroc 
can  take  another  wife." 

The  Princess,  seeing  that  Giles  found  this  conversa- 
tion somewhat  trying,  refrained  from  further  remark. 
She  shrugged  her  ample  shoulders,  and  sipped  her  coffee, 
which  she  complained  was  bad.  "You  do  not  know  how 
to  make  coffee  here,"  she  said,  unfurling  a  fan,  "and  it 
is  cold,  this  England  of  yours." 

"Princess,  to-night  is  warm !"  expostulated  Ware. 

"Nevertheless  I  have  had  a  fire  made  up,"  she  answered, 
pointing  with  her  fan  to  the  end  of  the  room ;  "the  land- 
lord was  so  surprised." 

"He  no  doubt  considered  it  to  be  an  eccentricity  of  Her 
Highness,"  said  Olga,  with  a  laugh ;  "a  cigarette, 
mother?'' 

The  Princess  took  one  languidly,  and  moved  her  chair 
closer  to  the  fire.  The  night — to  Giles — was  quite  hot, 
and  he  could  scarcely  bear  the  stifling  heat  of  the  room. 
W^indows  and  doors  were  closed,  and  the  fire  flamed  up 
fiercely.  Also  some  pastiles  had  been  burnt  by  Olga,  and 
added  a  heavy,  sensuous  scent  to  the  atmosphere.  Ware 
could  not  help  comparing  the  room  to  the  Venusberg,  and 
the  women  to  the  sirens  of  that  unlioly  haunt.  Which  of 
the  two  was  Venus  he  did  not  take  upon  himself  to  de- 
cide. 

"T  am  used  to  the  tropics,"  explained  the  Princess, 
puffing  blue  clouds  of  smoke.     "I  come  from  Jamaica; 


AN  AWKWARD  INTERVIEW  153 

but  I  have  been  many  years  in  Vienna,  and  in  that  cold 
Hungary,"  she  shivered. 

"Ah,  now  I  see,  Princess,  why  you  speak  EngUsh  so 
well,"  said  Giles,  and  he  might  also  have  added  that  he 
now  guessed  why  she  was  so  Eastern  in  appearance  and 
so  barbaric  in  her  taste  for  crude,  vivid  colors.  She  had 
negro  blood  in  her  veins  he  decided,  and  Olga  also.  This 
would  account  for  the  fierce  temperament  of  the  latter. 

'T  left  Jamaica  when  I  was  twenty-two,"  explained 
the  Princess,  while  her  daughter  frowned.  For  some 
reason  Olga  did  not  seem  to  approve  of  these  confidences. 
"Prince  Karacsay  was  travelling  there.  He  came  to  my 
father's  plantation,  and  there  he  married  me.  I  am  sorry 
I  did  not  marry  someone  in  Jamaica,"  she  finished  lazily. 

"My  dear  mother,"  broke  in  her  daughter  petulantly, 
"you  have  always  been  happy  in  Vienna  and  at  the  Castle." 

"At  the  castle,  yes.  It  was  so  quiet  there.  But  Vien- 
na, ach !     It  is  too  gay,  too  troublesome." 

"You  don't  like  noise  and  excitement,  Princess?" 

She  shook  her  imperial  head  with  the  gesture  of  an 
angry  queen. 

"I  like  nothing  but  rest.  To  be  in  a  hammock  with  a 
cigarette  and  to  hear  the  wind  bend  the  palms,  the  surf 
break  on  the  shores.  It  is  my  heaven.  But  in  Hungary 
— no  palms,  no  surf.     Ach !"     She  made  a  face. 

"You  are  different  to  Mademoiselle  Olga  here,"  said 
Ware,  smiling. 

"Quite  different,"  cried  Olga,  with  a  gay  laugh.  "But 
I  am  Hke  my  father.  He  is  a  bold  hunter  and  rider.  Ah, 
if  I  had  only  been  born  a  man!  I  love  the  saddle  and 
the  gun.  No  wonder  I  got  away  from  the  dull  Society  life 
of  Vienna,  where  women  are  slaves." 

"I  like  being  a  slave,  if  rest  is  slavery,"  murmured  her 
mother. 


154  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Would  not  your  father  let  you  ride  and  shoot,  Made- 
moiselle Olga?" 

"Ah  yes,  in  a  measure.  But  he  is  an  Austrian  of  the 
old  school.  He  does  not  believe  in  a  woman  being  inde- 
pendent. My  mother,  who  is  obedient  and  good,  is  the 
wife  he  loves." 

"The  Prince  has  been  very  kind  to  me.  He  does  not 
trouble  me." 

"lie  wouldn't  let  the  air  blow  too  roughly  on  you, 
mother,"  said  Olga,  with  a  scornful  laugh.  "He  is  a 
descendant  of  those  Magyars  who  had  Circassian  slaves, 
and  adores  them  as  playthings.     I  am  different." 

"You  are  terribly  farouche,  Olga,"  sighed  the  elder 
woman.  "Your  father  has  forgiven  you,  but  he  is  still 
annoyed.  I  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  getting  his  per- 
mission to  come  over  here." 

"He  doubtless  thinks  you  will  be  able  to  bring  me  back 
to  marry  Count  Taroc,"  replied  Olga  composedly,  "but  I 
stay."  She  looked  at  Giles  again,  as  if  he  were  the  rea- 
son she  thus  decided.  To  change  the  conversation  he 
stood  up. 

"I  fear  I  fatigue  you  ladies,"  he  said,  looking  very 
straight  and  handsome.     "You  will  wish  to  retire." 

"Certainly  I  retire,"  said  the  Princess.  "But  my  daugh- 
ter  " 

"I  shall  stop  and  talk  with  Mr.  Ware." 

"Olga !"  murmured  her  mother,  rather  shocked. 

"I  fear  I  have  to  go,"  said  Giles  uneasily. 

"No.  You  must  stop.  I  have  to  talk  to  you  about 
Anne." 

"Who  is  this  Anne?"  asked  the  Princess,  rising  lazily. 

"No  one  you  know,  mother.  A  friend  of  Mr.  Ware's. 
Now  you  must  retire,  and  Katinka  shall  make  you  com- 
fortable." 


AN  AWKWARD  INTERVIEW  155 

"You  will  not  be  long,  Olga  ?     If  your  father  knew — " 

"My  father  will  not  know,"  broke  in  her  daughter,  lead- 
ing the  elder  woman  to  the  door.  "You  will  not  tell  him. 
Besides"  (she  shrugged),  "we  women  are  free  in  Eng- 
land. What  would  shock  my  father  is  good  form  in  this 
delightful  country." 

The  Princess  murmured  something  to  Giles  in  a  sleepy 
tone,  and  lounged  out  of  the  room  bulky  but  graceful. 
When  she  departed  and  the  door  was  closed,  Olga  threw 
open  the  windows.  "Pah !"  she  said,  throwing  the  pas- 
tiles  out  of  doors,  "I  cannot  breathe  in  this  atmosphere. 
And  you,  Mr.  Ware?" 

"I  prefer  untainted  airs,"  he  replied,  accepting  a  cigar- 
ette. 

"The  airs  of  the  moors  and  of  the  mountains,"  she  ex- 
claimed, drawing  herself  up  and  looking  like  a  huntress 
in  her  free  grace.  "I  also.  I  love  wide  spaces  and  chill 
winds.  If  we  were  in  the  Carpathians,  you  and  I,  how 
savage  our  life  would  be !" 

"An  alluring  picture.  Princess." 

"I  am  not  Princess  at  present.     I  am  Olga !" 

"Mademoiselle  Olga,"  he  corrected.  "And  what  about 
Anne?" 

She  appeared  annoyed  by  his  persistence.  "You  think 
of  nothing  but  that  woman,"  she  cried  impetuously. 

"Your  friend,  mademoiselle." 

"Ach !  How  stiffly  you  stay  that !  My  friend  !  Oh, 
yes.  I  would  do  much  for  Anne,  but  why  should  I  do 
all?" 

"I  do  not  understand,  mademoiselle." 

With  a  strong  effort  she  composed  herself,  and  looked 
at  him  smiling.  "Is  it  so  very  difficult  to  understand?" 
she  asked  softly. 

"Very  difficult,"  replied  Ware  stolidly. 


156  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"None  so  blind  as  those  who  won't  see,"  muttered  Olga 
savagely. 

"Quite  so,  mademoiselle."  He  rose  to  go.  "Will  you 
permit  me  to  retire?" 

"No!     I  have  much  to  say  to  you.     Please  sit  down." 

"If  you  will  talk  about  Anne,"  he  replied,  still  stand- 
ing. "From  what  you  said  at  our  first  interview,  she 
evidently  knows  something  of  the  Scarlet  Cross,  and " 

"I  don't  know  what  she  does  know.  She  was  always 
careful." 

"I  thought  she  spoke  freely  to  you," 

"Oh,  as  a  woman  always  does  speak  to  one  of  her  own 
sex.  With  reservations,  Mr.  Ware.  Still,  I  could  tell 
you  something  likely  to  throw  some  light  on  the  mystery." 

"If  you  only  would." 

"It  would  not  lead  you  to  her  hiding-place." 

"What  if  I  knew  it  already,  mademoiselle?" 

She  stood  before  him,  her  hands  clenched,  her  breath- 
ing coming  and  going  in  quick,  short  gasps.  "You  can't 
know  that." 

"But  you  do,"  he  said  suddenly. 

"I  may,  or  I  may  not,"  she  replied  quickly;  "and  if  you 
know,  why  not  seek  her  out?" 

"I  intend  to  try." 

"To  try !  Then  you  are  not  sure  where  she  is  ?"  said 
Olga  eagerly. 

"Before  I  answer  that,  mademoiselle,  I  must  know  if 
you  are  my  friend  or  Anne's — enemy,"  and  he  looked  at 
her  straightly. 

"You  have  put  the  matter — the  position  in  the  right 
way.  I  am  your  friend  and  Anne's — no,  I  am  not  her 
enemy.  But  I  won't  give  her  to  you.  No,  I  won't.  You 
must  guess  that  I " 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  interrupted  quickly,  "spare  your- 


AN  AWKWARD  INTERVIEW  I57 

self  and  me  unnecessary  humiliation.  You  know  that  I 
love  Anne,  that  I  love  no  one  but  her.  I  would  give  my 
life  to  find  her  to  prove  her  innocence." 

"Even  your  life  will  not  bring  her  to  you  or  save  her 
from  the  law.  Giles" — she  held  out  her  arms — "I  love 
you." 

"The  heat  of  the  room  is  too  much  for  you.     I  will 

go." 

"No!"  She  flung  herself  between  him  and  the  door. 
"Since  I  have  said  so  much,  I  must  say  all.  Listen !  I 
have  been  making  inquiries.  I  know  more  about  the  Scar- 
let Cross  and  Anne's  connection  with  it  than  you  think. 
Her  fate  is  in  my  hands.     I  can  prove  her  innocence." 

"And  you  will — you  will !" 

"On  condition  that  you  give  her  up." 

"I  refuse  to  give  her  up,"  he  cried  angrily. 

"Then  she  will  be  punished  for  a  crime  she  did  not 
commit." 

"You  know  that  she  is  innocent." 

"I  can  prove  it,  and  I  shall  do  so.  You  know  my 
price." 

"Olga,  do  not  speak  like  this.  I  would  do  much  to 
save  Anne " 

"And  you  refuse  to  save  her,"  she  replied  scornfully 

"I  refuse  to  give  her  up !" 

"Then  I  shall  do  so — to  the  police.  I  know  where  she 
is." 

"You  do — that  is  why  you  are  down  here." 

"I  did  not  come  here  for  that,  but  to  see  you.  To  make 
^  my  terms.  I  love  you,  and  if  you  will  give  her  up,  I  shall 
save  her " 

"I  can  save  her  in  spite  of  you,"  said  Giles,  walking 
hastily  in  the  door.  "Your  presence  here  confirms  a  fancy 
that  I  had.     I  can  guess  where  Anne  is,  and  I'll  save  her." 


158  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Yon  will  bring-  her  to  the  light  of  day  and  she  will  be 
arrested.     I  alone  can  save  her." 

"You  will.     Oh,  Olga,  be  your  better  self,  and " 

"You  know  my  price,"  she  said  between  her  teeth. 

"I  can't  pay  it — I  can't." 

"Then  you  must  be  content  to  see  her  ruined." 

"You  are  a  devil !" 

"And  you  arc  most  polite.  No;  I  am  a  woman  who 
loves  you,  and  who  is  determined  to  have  you  at  any  cost." 

"Can  you  really  save  Anne?" 

"I  can." 

"Will  you  give  me  time  to  think?" 

A  f^ash  of  joy  crossed  her  face.  "Then  I  am  not  so 
indifferent  to  you  as  you  would  have  me  suppose,"  she 
said  softly. 

"You  are  not  so — no,  no !  I  can't  say  it !  Give  me 
time !  give  me  time !"     He  opened  the  door. 

"Wait,  wait!"  she  said,  and  closed  it  again.  "I  will 
give  you  two  days.  Then  I  return  to  London.  If  I  have 
your  promise,  Anne  shall  be  set  free  from  this  accusa- 
tion. If  you  tamper  in  the  meantime  with  her — for  you 
may  know  where  she  is — I'll  have  her  arrested  at  once." 

"I  will  do  nothing,"  he  said  in  muffled  tones. 

"Swear!  swear!"  She  placed  her  hands  on  his  shoul- 
ders. 

Giles  stepped  back  to  free  himself.  "I  will  swear  noth- 
ing," he  said  in  icy  tones.  "I  take  my  two  days."  So 
saying  he  opened  the  door,  but  not  quickly  enough  to 
prevent  her  kissing  him. 

"You  are  mine !  you  are  mine !"  she  exclaimed  cxult- 
ingly.  "Let  Anne  have  her  liberty,  her  good  name.  I 
have  you.     You  arc  fninc  ! — mine  !" 

"On  conditions,"  said  Giles  cruelly,  and  went  away^ 
quickly. 


CHAPTER  XVI 


THE    UNEXPECTED   HAPPENS 


GILES  left  'The  Merry  Dancer"  quite  determined  to 
deceive  Olga  if  it  were  possible.  No  faith  should 
be  kept  with  such  a  woman.  She  had  power,  and  she 
was  using  it  unscrupulously  for  selfish  ends.  Moreover, 
come  what  might,  Giles  could  not  bring  himself  to  make 
her  his  wife.  He  loved  Anne  too  deeply  for  that.  And 
then  he  began  to  ask  himself  if  he  were  not  selfish  also, 
seeing  that  he  would  not  lose  his  own  gratification  to  save 
the  woman  he  loved.  Nevertheless,  he  could  not  contem- 
plate giving  up  Anne  with  equanimity,  and  set  his  wits 
to  work  in  order  to  circumvent  the  treacherous  Olga. 

In  the  first  place  he  now  felt  certain  that  Anne  was  in 
the  neighborhood,  and,  as  he  shrewdly  suspected,  in  the 
Priory.  The  discovery  of  the  coin  and  the  presence  of 
Olga  in  the  village  made  him  certain  on  this  point.  In 
some  way  or  another  she  had  got  to  know  of  Anne's 
whereabouts,  and  had  come  here  to  make  capital  of  her 
knowledge.  If  he  consented  to  surrender  Anne  and  make 
Olga  his  wife,  she  would  probably  assist  Anne  to  escape, 
or  else,  as  she  asserted,  clear  her  of  complicity  in  the  crime. 

On  the  other  hand,  should  he  refuse,  she  would  then 
tell  the  police  where  the  unfortunate  governess  was  to 


i6o  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

be  found.  It  might  be  that  Anne  could  save  herself.  But 
seeing  tliat  she  had  fled  immediately  after  the  murder,  it 
would  be  difficult  for  her  to  exonerate  herself.  Also,  the 
reason  she  had  then  to  take  the  guilt  upon  her  own  shoul- 
ders might  again  stand  in  the  way  of  her  now  clearing 
her  character.  Nothing  was  left  but  to  marry  Olga  and 
so  free  Anne,  or  seek  Anne  himself.  Ware  determined 
to  adopt  the  latter  course  as  the  least  repugnant  to  his 
feelings. 

But  Olga  was  no  mean  antagonist.  She  loved  Giles  so 
much  that  she  knew  perfectly  well  that  he  did  not  love 
her,  and  this  knowledge  taught  her  to  mistrust  him.  As 
her  passion  was  so  g^eat  she  was  content  to  take  him  as 
a  reluctant  husband,  in  the  belief  that  she,  as  his  wife, 
would  in  time  wean  him  from  his  earlier  love.  But  she 
was  well  aware  that,  even  to  save  Anne,  he  would  not 
give  in  without  a  struggle. 

This  being  the  case,  she  considered  what  he  would  do. 
It  struck  her  that  he  would  see  if  he  could  get  into  the 
Priory,  for  from  some  words  he  had  let  fall  she  was  con- 
vinced that  he  thought  Anne  was  concealed  therein.  Olga 
had  her  own  opinion  about  that ;  but  she  had  to  do  with 
his  actions  at  present  and  not  with  her  own  thoughts. 
For  this  reason  she  determined  to  watch  him — to  be  in 
his  company  throughout  the  time  of  probation. 

Thus  it  happened  that  before  Giles  could  arrange  his 
plans  the  next  day — one  of  which  entailed  a  neighborly 
visit  to  Franklin — Olga  made  her  appearance  at  his  house, 
and  expressed  a  desire  to  see  his  picture  gallery,  of  which 
she  had  heard  much.  Her  mother,  she  said,  was  coming 
over  that  afternoon  to  look  at  the  house,  which,  as  she 
had  been  told,  was  a  model  of  what  an  English  country- 
house  should  be. 


THE  UNEXPECTED  HAPPENS  i6i 

Giles  growled  at  this  speech,  being  clever  enough  to 
see  through  the  artifices  of  Mademoiselle  Olga. 

"The  house  is  as  old  as  the  Tudors,"  he  expostulated ; 
"your  mother  should  look  at  a  more  modem  one." 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Olga  sweetly.  "I  am  sure  she  will 
be  delighted  with  this  one ;  it  is  so  picturesque." 

"I  am  afraid  that  I  promised  to  pay  a  visit  this  after- 
noon." 

"Ah,  you  must  put  it  off,  Mr.  Ware.     When  two  ladies  ■ 
come  to  see  you,  you  really  cannot  leave  them  alone." 

"If  the  next  day  will  do " 

"I  don't  think  it  will.  My  mother  and  I  leave  the  next 
day.  She  is  due  in  town  to  a  reception  at  the  Austrian 
Embassy." 

Ware  made  other  excuses,  but  Olga  would  listen  to 
none  of  them.  She  stopped  all  the  morning  and  looked  at 
the  pictures,  but  she  never  referred  to  their  conversation 
of  the  previous  night.  There  was  a  tacit  understanding 
between  them  that  it  should  remain  in  abeyance  until  the 
time  given  for  the  reply  of  Giles  was  ended.  Still,  Ware 
could  not  forget  that  burning  kiss,  and  was  awkward  in 
consequence. 

Not  so  Olga.  She  was  quite  cool  and  self-possessed, 
and  although  alone  with  him  for  close  on  two  hours,  did 
not  show  the  least  confusion.  Giles,  much  disgusted, 
called  her  in  his  own  mind  "unmaidenly."  But  she  was 
not  that,  for  she  behaved  very  discreetly.  She  was  sim- 
ply a  woman  deeply  in  love  who  was  bent  on  gaining  her 
ends.  Considering  the  depth  of  her  passion,  she  re- 
strained herself  very  creditably  when  with  the  man  she 
loved.  Giles  now  saw  how  it  was  that  she  had  defied  her 
family  and  had  taken  her  own  way  in  life. 

"I  won't  stop  to  luncheon,"  she  said,  when  he  asked 
her;  "but  I   and  my  mother  will  come  over  at  three 


i62  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

o'clock."  It  was  now  close  on  two.  "I  am  sure  we  shall 
have  a  pleasant  afternoon." 

Giles  tried  to  smile,  and  succeeded  very  well,  consider- 
ing what  his  feelings  were  at  the  moment.  If  he  could 
only  have  behaved  brutally,  he  would  have  refused  the 
honor  of  the  proposed  visit,  but  it  is  difficult  to  be  rude 
to  a  charming  woman  bent  upon  having  her  own  way. 
Ware  kicked  as  a  man  will,  but  ended  in  accepting  the 
inevitable. 

Olga  returned  to  the  inn.  and  found  the  Princess  seated 
on  the  sofa  fanning  herself  violently.  Mrs.  Morris  was 
in  the  room,  Ihittering  nervously  as  she  laid  the  cloth  for 
luncheon.  Olga  looked  at  her  mother.  "Did  you  take 
your  walk?"  she  asked. 

The  Princess  nodded.     "I  am  very  warm,"  she  said. 

"What  do  you  think  now?"  asked  her  daughter  impa- 
tiently. 

"I  think  that  you  are  a  very  clever  woman,  Olga,"  re- 
plied the  Princess ;  "but  I  am  too  hungry  to  talk  just  now. 
When  I  have  eaten  and  am  rested  we  can  speak," 

"But  just  one  word.     Am  I  right?" 

"Perfectly  right." 

This  conversation  was  conducted  in  French,  and  Mrs, 
Morris  could  make  nothing  of  it.  Even  if  she  had  known 
the  sense  she  would  not  have  understood  what  it  meant. 
However,  Olga  and  her  mother  reverted  to  English  for 
the  benefit  of  the  landlady,  and  chatted  about  their  pro- 
posed visit  to  Ware's  mansion.  After  that  came  lunch- 
eon. Shortly  after  three  mother  and  daughter  were  with 
Giles.  He  received  them  with  composure,  although  he 
felt  quite  otherwise  than  composed.  The  Princess  pro- 
nounced him  a  charming  young  man. 

"And  what  a  delightful  place  you  have  here!"  she  said, 
looking  at  the  quaint  Tudor  house,  with  its  grey  walls 


THE  UNEXPECTED  HAPPENS  163 

and  mullion  windows.  "It  is  like  a  fairy  palace.  The 
Castle" — she  meant  her  husband's  residence  in  Styria — 
"is  cruel-looking  and  wild." 

"It  was  built  in  the  Middle  Ages,"  said  Olga.  "I  don't 
think  any  one  was  particularly  amiable  then." 

"I  would  rather  have  stayed  in  Jamaica,"  sighed  the 
Princess.     "Why  did  I  ever  leave  it?" 

Olga,  who  always  appeared  annoyed  when  her  mother 
reverted  to  her  early  life,  touched  the  elder  woman's  el- 
bow. The  Princess  sighed  again,  and  held  her  peace. 
She  had  a  fine  temper  of  her  own,  but  always  felt  that 
it  was  an  effort  to  use  it.  She  therefore  usually  gave  in 
to  Olga.     "It  saved  trouble,"  she  explained. 

But  her  good  temper  did  not  last  all  the  afternoon,  and 
ended  in  disarranging  Olga's  plans.  After  a  hearty  after- 
noon tea  on  the  lawn  the  Princess  said  that  she  did  not 
feel  well,  and  wished  to  go  home.  Olga  demurred,  but 
Giles,  seeing  the  chance  of  escape,  agreed  that  the  Prin- 
cess really  was  unwell,  and  proposed  to  send  them  back 
to  the  inn  in  his  carriage.  Princess  Karacsay  jumped 
at  the  offer. 

"It  will  save  me  walking,"  she  declared  fretfully,  "and 
I  have  done  so  much  this  morning." 

"Where  did  you  go?"  asked  Giles,  wondering  that  so 
indolent  a  woman  should  exert  herself  on  such  a  hot  day. 

"To  some  woods  round  a  place  they  call  the  Priory." 

"To  the  Priory!"  he  exclaimed,  astonished.  "Do  you 
know  Mr.  Franklin?" 

"My  mother  said  the  woods  round  the  Priory,"  ex- 
plained Olga,  with  an  annoyed  glance  at  the  elder  lady. 
"She  did  not  enter." 

"No,"  said  the  Princess,  "I  did  not  enter;  I  do  not  know 
the  man.  Oh,  my  dear  Olga,  do  come  back.  I  don't  feel 
at  all  well." 


i64  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

*'I  will  order  the  carriage,"  said  Giles,  rising. 

"And  you  will  come  back  with  us  ?" 

"Really,  you  must  excuse  me,  Mademoiselle  Olga,"  he 
answered ;  "but  even  a  country  squire  has  his  work  to 
do." 

And  with  that  he  hurried  away.  In  half  an  hour  he 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  carriage  roll  down  his 
avenue  with  a  very  disappointed  young  lady  frowning  at 
the  broad  back  of  the  coachman.  Then  he  set  about  see- 
ing what  he  could  do  to  circumvent  her. 

It  was  too  late  to  call  on  Franklin,  as  it  was  nearly  six 
o'clock.  Still,  Ware  thought  he  would  reconnoitre  in  the 
woods.  It  was  strange  that  the  elder  Princess  should 
have  been  there  this  morning,  and  he  wondered  if  she 
also  knew  of  Anne's  whereabouts.  But  this  he  decided 
was  impossible.  She  had  only  been  a  few  days  in  Eng- 
land, and  she  would  not  likely  know  anything  about  the 
governess.  Still,  it  was  odd  that  she  should  have  taken 
a  walk  in  that  particular  direction,  or  that  she  should  have 
walked  at  all.  Here  was  another  mysterv'  added  to  the 
one  which  already  perplexed  him  so  greatly. 

However,  time  was  too  precious  to  be  wasted  in  solilo- 
quizing, so  he  went  off  post-haste  towards  the  woods 
round  the  Priory.  Since  he  wished  to  avoid  observa- 
tion, he  chose  by-paths,  and  took  a  rather  circuitous  route. 
It  was  nearly  seven  when  he  found  himself  in  the  forest. 
The  summer  evenings  were  then  at  their  longest,  and 
under  the  great  trees  there  was  a  soft,  brooding  twilight 
full  of  peace  and  pleasant  woodland  sounds.  Had  he  gone 
straight  forward,  he  would  have  come  on  the  great  house 
itself,  centred  in  that  fairy  forest.  But  this  was  the  last 
thing  he  wished  to  do.  He  was  not  yet  prepared  to  see 
Franklin.  He  looked  here  and  there  to  see  if  any  human 
being  was  about,  but  unsuccessfully.     Then  he  took  his 


THE  UNEXPECTED  HAPPENS  165 

way  to  the  spot  where  he  had  found  the  coin  of  Edward 
VII.  To  his  surprise  he  saw  a  girl  stooping  and  search- 
ing. At  once  he  decided  that  she  was  looking  for  the 
lost  coin.     But  the  girl  was  not  Anne. 

Looking  up  suddenly  she  surveyed  him  with  a  startled 
air,  and  he  saw  her  face  plainly  in  the  quiet  evening  light. 
She  had  reddish  hair,  a  freckled  face,  and  was  dressed — 
as  Mrs.  Parry  had  said — in  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow. 
Giles  guessed  at  once  who  she  was,  and  bowed. 

"Good  evening,  Miss  Franklin,"  he  said,  lifting  his  hat, 
"you  seem  to  be  looking  for  something.  Can  I  assist 
you?" 

The  damsel  looked  at  him  sternly  and  scowled.  "You're 
trespassing,"  she  said  in  rather  a  gruff  voice. 

"I  fear  that  I  am,"  he  answered,  laughing;  "but  you'll 
forgive  me  if  I  assist  you  in  your  search,  won't  you  ?" 

"Who  are  you?"  questioned  Miss  Franklin,  quite  un- 
moved by  this  politeness.    "I  never  saw  you  before." 

"I  have  just  returned  from  London.  My  name  is 
Ware." 

"Ware!"  echoed  the  girl  eagerly.    "Giles  Ware?" 

"Yes.     Do  you  know  my  name?" 

She  took  a  good  look  at  him,  and  seemed — he  was  vain 
enough  to  think  so — rather  to  soften  towards  him.  "I 
have  heard  Mrs.  Morley  speak  of  you,"  she  declared 
bluntly. 

"Ah!     You  have  not  heard  a  lady  speak  of  me?" 

Miss  Franklin  stared.  "No,  I  never  heard  a  lady  talk 
of  you,"  she  replied,  with  a  giggle.     "What  lady?" 

"The  lady  who  is  stopping  in  your  house." 

Her  eyes  became  hard,  and  she  assumed  a  stony  ex- 
pression.    "There  is  no  lady  in  the  house  but  myself." 

"Not  a  lady  who  lost  what  you  are  looking  for?" 

This  time  she  was  thrown  off  her  guard,  and  became 


i66  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

as  red  as  her  hair.  She  tried  to  carry  off  her  confusion 
with  rudeness.  "I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  of," 
she  said,  with  a  stamp  and  a  frown!  "you  can  just  clear 
away  off  our  land,  or  I'll  set  the  dogs  on  you." 

"I  see.  You  keep  dogs,  do  you  ?  Bloodhounds  prob- 
ably?" 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  asked  Miss  Franklin,  star- 
ing. "Yes,  we  do  keep  bloodhounds,  and  they  will  tear 
you  to  pieces  if  you  don't  go." 

"You  seem  to  forget  that  this  is  a  civilized  country," 
said  Giles  quietly.  "If  you  set  your  dogs  on  me,  I  shall 
set  the  police  on  you." 

"The  police !"  She  seemed  startled,  but  recovered  her- 
self.    "I  don't  care  for  the  police,"  she  declared  defiantly. 

"You  might  not,  but  Walter  Franklin  might." 

"Who  is  he  ?    Never  heard  of  him." 

"Never  heard  of  your  uncle?"  said  Giles,  and  then  won- 
dered how  he  could  let  her  know  that  he  had  heard  it  with- 
out confessing  to  the  eavesdropping.  It  suddenly  oc- 
curred to  him  that  Franklin  had — he  supposed — on  the 
previous  day  made  a  confidant  of  Morley.  This  supposi- 
tion he  took  advantage  of.  "Mr.  Morley  told  me  that 
your  father  had  mentioned  his  brother." 

The  girl  started  and  thought  for  a  moment.  "Oh,  you 
mean  Uncle  Walter,"  she  said,  after  a  pause.  "Yes,  but 
w-e  never  talk  of  him." 

This  little  speech  did  not  ring  quite  true.  It  seemed 
as  though  the  girl  wished  to  back  up  the  saying  of  her 
father,  whether  she  believed  it  or  not.  "Is  that  why  you 
pretended  ignorance?''  he  asked. 

"That  was  why,"  replied  Miss  Franklin,  with  brazen 
assurance. 

She  was  lying.  Giles  felt  certain  of  that,  but  he  could 
not  bring  the  untruth  home  to  her.     He  suddenly  revert- 


THE  UNEXPECTED  HAPPENS  167 

ed  to  the  main  object  of  his  interview,  which  had  to  do 
with  the  possibiHty  of  Anne  being  in  the  Priory. 

"What  about  that  coin  you  are  looking  for?" 

"I  am  looking  for  no  coin,"  she  replied,  quite  prepared 
for  him.     "I  lost  a  brooch  here.     Have  you  found  it  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Giles,  his  eyes  watchfully  on  her  face. 
"It  is  an  Edward  VII.  coin  in  the  form  of  a  brooch." 

He  thought  Miss  Franklin  would  contradict  this,  but 
she  was  perfectly  equal  to  the  occasion.  "You  must  have 
found  it,  since  you  know  it  so  well.  Please  give  it  to 
me. 

"I  have  left  it  at  home,"  he  answered,  although  it  was 
lying  in  his  pocket-book,  and  that  next  his  heart.  "I  will 
give  it  to  you  to-morrow  if  you  tell  me  from  whom  you 
got  it." 

"I  found  it,"  she  confessed,  "in  the  churchyard." 

"Ah !"  A  sudden  light  flashed  into  the  darkness  of 
Ware's  mind.  "By  the  grave  of  that  poor  girl  who  was 
murdered?" 

"1  don't  know  of  any  murdered  girl,"  retorted  Miss 
Franklin,  and  looked  uneasy,  as  though  she  were  con- 
scious of  making  a  mistake. 

"Yes  you  do,  and  you  know  the  lady  who  cleans  the 
stone  and  attends  to  the  grave.     Don't  deny  the  truth." 

Miss  Franklin  looked  him  up  and  down,  and  shrugged 
her  clumsy  shoulders.  "I  don't  know  what  you  are  talk- 
ing about,"  she  declared,  and  with  that  turned  on  her* 
heel.  "Since  you  will  not  take  yourself  off  like  a  gentle- 
man, ril  go  myself" ;  and  she  went. 

"Don't  set  the  bloodhounds  on  me,"  called  out  Giles. 
But  she  never  turned  her  head;  simply  went  on  with  a 
steady  step  until  she  was  lost  in  the  gloom  of  the  wood. 

Giles  waited  for  a  time.  He  had  an  idea  that  she  was 
watching.     By-and-by  the  feeling  wore  off,  and  know- 


i68  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

ing  by  this  time  that  he  was  quite  alone,  he  also  departed. 

He  was  beginning-  to  doubt  Franklin,  for  this  girl  had 
evidently  something  to  conceal.  He  was  sure  that  Anne 
was  being  sheltered  in  the  house,  and  that  it  was  Anne 
who  cleaned  the  gravestone.  Perhaps  George  Franklin 
was  giving  her  shelter  since  she  had  helped  his  rascal 
of  a  brother  to  escape.  Thus  thinking,  he  went  through 
the  wood  with  the  intention  of  going  home.  A  glance  at 
his  watch  told  him  it  was  after  eight. 

Suddenly  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  would  be  a  good 
time  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  graveyard  and  see  if  anything 
new  Had  been  done  to  the  grave.  All  the  people  were 
within  doors  at  this  hour,  and  the  churchyard  would  be 
quiet.  Having  made  up  his  mind,  he  walked  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  church  and  vaulted  the  low  wall  that  divided 
that  graveyard  from  the  park.  He  saw  Daisy's  grave. 
Bending  over  it  a  woman.  She  looked  up  with  a  startled 
cry.    It  was  Anne  Denham, 


CHAPTER  XVII 


PART   OF   THE   TRUTH 


FOR  a  moment  the  lovers  stared  at  one  another  in  the 
luminous  twilight.  The  meeting  was  so  strange, 
the  place  where  it  took  place  so  significant  of  the  trouble 
that  had  parted  them,  that  both  were  overcome  with  emo- 
tion. Anne  was  as  white  as  the  marble  tombstone,  and 
looked  at  him  with  appealing  eyes  that  beseeched  him  to 
go  away.  But  having  found  her  Giles  was  determined 
not  to  lose  her  again,  and  was  the  first  to  find  his  tongue. 

"Anne!"  said  he,  and  stepped  towards  her  with  open 
arms. 

His  voice  broke  the  spell  which  held  her  chained  to  the 
ill-omened  spot,  and  she  turned  to  fly,  only  to  find  her- 
self on  his  breast  and  his  dear  voice  sounding  entreatingly 
in  her  ears. 

"Anne,"  he  said  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  "you  will  not  leave 
me  now  ?" 

After  a  brief  struggle  she  surrendered  herself.  There 
was  no  danger  of  any  one  coming  to  the  churchyard  at 
this  hour,  and  since  they  had  met  so  unexpectedly,  she — 
like  the  tender,  sweet  woman  she  was — snatched  at  the 
blissful  moment.  "Giles,"  she  murmured,  and  it  was  the 
first  time  he  had  heard  her  lips  frame  his  name.     "Giles !" 


170  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

Again  there  was  a  silence  between  them,  but  one  of 
pure  joy  and  transcendental  happiness.  Come  what 
might,  nothing  could  banish  the  memory  of  that  moment. 
They  were  heart  to  heart  and  each  knew  that  the  other 
loved.  There  was  no  need  of  words.  Giles  felt  that  here 
was  the  one  woman  for  him;  and  Anne  nestled  in  those 
beloved  arms  like  a  wild  bird  sheltering  from  storm. 

But  the  storm  which  buffeted  her  wings  would  tear 
her  from  this  refuge.  The  passionate  delight  of  that 
second  of  Eden  passed  like  a  shadow  on  the  sun  dial. 
From  heaven  thy  dropped  to  earth,  and  parted  once  more 
by  a  hand-breath,  stared  with  haggard  looks  at  one  an- 
other. The  revulsion  was  so  great  that  Anne  could  have 
wept ;  but  her  sorrow  was  so  deep  that  her  eyes  were  dry. 
For  the  gift  of  the  world  she  could  not  have  wept  at  that 
hour. 

But  she  no  longer  felt  an  inclination  to  fly.  When  she 
saw  how  worn  and  thin  her  lover  looked,  she  knew  that 
he  had  been  suffering  as  much  as  she  had,  and  a  full  tide 
of  love  swelled  to  her  heart.  She  also  had  lost  much  of 
her  beauty,  but  she  never  tliought  of  that.  All  she  de- 
sired was  to  comfort  ths  man  that  loved  her.  She  felt 
that  an  explanation  was  due  to  him,  and  this  she  deter- 
mined to  give  as  far  as  she  could  without  incriminating 
others. 

Taking  his  hand  in  her  own,  she  led  him  some  little 
distance  from  the  grave  of  Daisy ;  and  they  seated  them- 
selves on  a  flat  stone  in  the  shadow  of  the  church,  and  a 
stone's  throw  from  the  park  wall.  Here  they  could  con- 
verse without  being  seen,  and  if  any  one  came  they  could 
hear  the  footsteps  on  the  gravelled  path,  and  so  be  warned. 
And  throughout  that  short  interview  Anne  listened  with 
strained  attention  for  the  coming  step.       At  the  outset 


PART  OF  THE  TRUTH  171 

Giles  noted  her  expectant  look  and  put  his  arm  round 
her. 

"Dearest,  do  not  fear,"  he  said  softly.  ''No  one  will 
come ;  and  if  any  one  does  I  can  save  you." 

"No,"  she  repHed,  turning  her  weary  eyes  on  him.  "I 
am  under  a  ban.  I  am  a  fugitive  from  the  law.  You 
cannot  save  me  from  that." 

"But  you  are  innocent,"  he  said  vehemently. 

"Do  you  believe  that  I  am,  Giles  ?" 

"Do  I  believe  it  ?  Why  should  you  ask  me  such  a  ques- 
tion ?  If  you  only  knew,  Anne,  I  have  never  doubted  you 
from  the  first.     Never!  never!" 

"I  do  know  it,"  she  said,  throwing  her  arms  round  his 
neck.  "I  have  known  all  along  how  you  believed  in  my 
innocence.  Oh,  Giles,  my  darling  Giles,  how  shall  I  be 
able  to  thank  you  for  this  trust  ?" 

"You  can,  Anne,  by  becoming  my  wife." 

"Would  you  marry  me  with  this  accusation  hanging 
over  me  ?" 

"I  would  make  you  my  wife  at  this  moment.  I  would 
stand  beside  you  in  the  dock  holding  your  hand.  What 
does  it  matter  to  me  if  all  the  foolish  world  think  you 
guilty?  I  know  in  my  own  heart  that  you  are  an  inno- 
cent woman." 

"Oh,  Giles,  Giles !"  Then  her  tears  burst  forth.  She 
could  weep  now,  and  felt  the  better  for  that  moment  of 
joyful  relief.  He  waited  till  she  grew  more  composed, 
and  then  began  to  talk  of  the  future. 

"This  can't  go  on  for  ever,  Anne,"  said  he  decisively; 
"you  must  proclaim  your  innocence." 

"I  can't,"  she  answered,  with  hanging  head. 

"I  understand.  You  wish  to  protect  this  man.  Oh, 
do  not  look  so  surprised.  I  mean  with  the  man  you  fled 
with — the  man  Wilson." 


17-2  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"I  don't  know  any  one  called  Wilson." 

"Anne !" — he  looked  at  her  keenly — "I  implore  you  to 
tell  nie  the  truth.  Who  is  this  man  you  fled  with  to 
Gravesend — with  whom  you  went  on  board  the  yacht  ?" 

"Is  that  known?"  she  asked  in  a  terrified  whisper. 

"Yes.     A  great  deal  is  known." 

"Portia  never  told  me  that,"  she  murmured  to  herself. 

"Who  is  Portia?" 

"She  lives  at  the  Priory,  and " 

"I  see.  She  is  the  red-haired,  freckle-faced  girl — the 
daughter  of  i\Ir.  Franklin.  Morley  told  me  that.  Por- 
tia !  What  a  stately  name  for  that  dreadful  young  per- 
son !" 

"But  indeed,  Giles,  she  is  a  good  girl,  and  has  been 
a  kind  friend  to  me,"  explained  Anne  eagerly.  "She  told 
me  all  about  you,  and  how  you  believed  in  my  innocence." 

"Ah !"  exclaimed  Giles,  "then  that  was  why  she  seemed 
so  pleased  to  hear  my  name.  I  met  her  in  the  park  just 
now,  Anne " 

"You  met  her  in  the  park?"  Anne  half  rose  to  go. 
He  drew  her  down. 

"Yes,  dearest.  But  don't  be  alarmed.  She  will  never 
think  that  we  have  met.  She  was  looking  for  this."  And 
Giles  took  out  the  coin. 

Anne  gave  a  cry  of  delighted  surprise.  "Oh,"  she  said, 
taking  it  eagerly,  "I  thought  I  had  lost  it  forever.  And 
you  found  it,  Giles?" 

"I  found  it,"  he  replied  gravely.  "It  was  that  discov- 
ery which  made  me  believe  that  you  were  in  the  neighbor- 
hood.    And  then  when  Olga " 

"Olga."  Anne  looked  at  him  suddenly.  "Do  you 
know  her?" 

"Very  well.     She  is  your  friend." 

"My  best  friend.     She  loves  me  like  a  sister." 


PART  OF  THE  TRUTH  173 

Giles  could  have  told  her  that  the  sisterly  love  was  not 
to  be  trusted,  but  she  had  so  much  trouble  that  he  could 
not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  add  to  her  worries.  Besides, 
time  was  slipping  by,  and  as  yet  he  knew  nothing  of  the 
truth  of  the  matter. 

"Tell  me  why  you  fled  with  that  man,"  he  asked. 

"Giles,  I  will  tell  you  all,"  she  replied  earnestly,  "but  on 
your  part  let  me  hear  what  is  being  done  about  the  death 
of  poor  Daisy.  It  will  set  my  mind  at  rest.  You  see  how 
I  have  taken  care  of  her  grave,  dear.  Were  I  guilty 
would  I  do  that  ?" 

"I  never  thought  you  guilty,"  he  repeated  impatiently. 
"How  many  times  have  I  to  say  that?" 

"As  many  as  you  can  bring  your  mind  to  repeat,"  she 
replied.  "It  is  sweet  to  think  that  you  love  me  so  well, 
that  you  can  refuse  to  believe  evil  of  me  in  the  face  of  the 
evidence  against  me." 

"Anne,  Anne,  why  did  you  fly?" 

"Tell  me  how  the  case  stands  against  me  and  what  you 
have  discovered,"  she  asked  in  a  composed  voice,  and  with 
a  visible  effort  to  command  her  feelings.  "And  I  shall  tell 
you  all  that  I  can." 

As  time  was  precious  Giles  did  not  lose  a  moment.  He 
plunged  into  the  story  of  all  that  had  taken  place,  from 
his  interview  with  Mrs.  Parry  to  the  finding  of  the  coin 
which  had  first  given  him  his  clue  to  the  whereabouts  of 
Anne.  Also  he  touched  lightly  upon  the  visit  of  Olga  to 
Rickwell,  but  was  careful  not  to  allude  to  her  feelings 
towards  him.  Since  Anne  believed  the  woman  to  be  her 
friend,  he  wished  her  to  remain  in  that  belief.  He  was 
not  the  one  to  add  to  her  sorrows.  And  even  when  she 
was  cleared  of  the  charge  and  became  his  wife  Ware  de- 
termined that  he  would  never  speak  of  Olga's  treachery. 


174  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

For  her  own  sake  he  knew  that  the  Hungarian  would  be 
silent. 

Anne  listened  in  silence  to  his  recital,  and  when  he  ended 
drew  a  sigh  of  relief.  "It  might  iiave  been  worse,"  she 
said. 

"I  don't  see  how  it  could  be,"  replied  Ware  bluntly. 
"Morley  will  insist  that  you  are  guilty,  and  Steel  thinks 
so  too.  I  must  admit  that  he  wavers  between  you  and 
this  man  you  tied  with.     Come  now,  Anne,  tell  me  all." 

"I  shall  not  have  much  time,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "I 
dare  not  let  Mr.  Franklin  know  that  I  have  met  you.  If  I 
am  not  back  in  the  Priory  soon,  he  will  send  Portia  to 
look  for  me." 

"You  can  tell  me  much  in  ten  minutes.  Who  is  the 
man?" 

"My  father,"  she  replied  in  a  low  voice. 

Giles  could  hardly  speak  for  surprise.  "Bui  your  father 
is  dead?'' 

"I  thought  he  was,"  said  Anne.  "I  have  believed  it 
these  many  months.  But  when  I  saw  him  in  Mr.  Mor- 
ley's  library  on  that  night  I  knew  that  he  still  lived." 

"But  I  can't  understand  how  you  made  such  a  mistake. 
Does  Morley  know?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "I  managed  to  restrain  myself. 
Mr.  Morley  knows  nothing.  Afterwards  I  went  to  the 
church  in  the  hope  of  meeting  my  father.  He  was  in 
church." 

"I  saw  him,"  said  Giles ;  "but  tell  me  how  the  mistake 
occurred." 

"My  father  lived  in  Florence,  and " 

"Is  his  name  Walter  Franklin?" 

"That  is  his  real  name;  but  he  was  known  in  Florence 
as  Alfred  Denham." 


PART  OF  THE  TRUTH  175 

"You  spoke  to  Olga  Karacsay  about  him  under  that 
name  ?'' 

"Yes,  because  I  did  not  know  until  lately  that  his  name 
was  Walter  Franklin.  Nor  did  I  know  that  George 
Franklin,  who  inherits  Daisy's  money,  was  his  brother." 

"So  George  Franklin  is  your  uncle  and  Portia  your 
cousin  ?" 

"Yes ;  but  let  me  go  on.  My  father  lived  in  Florence. 
I  was  often  away  from  home,  as  I  was  engaged  as  a  gov- 
erness. I  came  to  England  and  met  Olga  at  the  Institute. 
I  procured  an  engagement  in  London ;  it  was  the  one  I 
had  before  Mrs.  Morley  engaged  me.  I  received  news 
that  my  father  was  ill  of  typhoid  fever.  I  hurried  at  once 
to  Florence.  He  not  only  was  dead,  but  he  was  buried, 
so  I  was  informed  by  Mark  Dane." 

"Who  is  Mark  Dane?" 

"He  was  my  father's  secretary." 

"One  moment,  Anne.  Your  uncle  stated  that  he  was 
the  man  who  lived  in  Florence,  and  that  your  father  being 
a  scamp  lived  in  England.  On  account  of  Walter  George 
resided  abroad." 

"That  is  quite  true.  But  Walter — I  may  speak  of  my 
father  so  for  the  sake  of  clearness — used  to  come  some- 
times to  Florence.  George  never  knew  that  he  was  there, 
thinking  that  he  was  in  London.  I  learned  all  this  lately. 
At  the  time  my  father  and  I  Hved  in  Florence  I  knew 
nothing  of  the  relationship  between  George  and  Walter. 
My  father  knew  that  if  Daisy  died  his  brother  would  in- 
herit the  money,  and  he  kept  a  watch  on  George  so  as  to 
see  if  he  would  come  into  the  property.  But  I  knew  noth- 
ing of  this,  neither  did  Mark,  although  he  was  deep  in 
my  father's  confidence.  Well,  as  I  say,  my  father  was 
supposed  to  have  died.  I  expect  another  corpse  was 
buried  in  his  place.     Mark  no  doubt  agreed  to  the  fraud. 


176  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  YII. 

whatever  was  the  reason.  But  I  have  not  seen  Mark 
since  immediately  after  the  death,  and  can't  get  an  ex- 
planation. I  saw  him  in  Florence,  and  ho  told  me  that 
my  father  was  dead  and  buried.  Since  then  I  have  not 
seen  him.'' 

"So  you  returned  to  England,  thinking  your  father  was 
dead  ?" 

"Certainly.  He  left  me  a  little  money.  I  went  back 
to  my  situation.  Afterwards  I  came  down  here.  On  that 
New  Year's  Eve  I  entered  the  library  and  saw  my  father 
speaking  to  Mr.  Morley.  I  disguised  my  feelings,  as  I 
was  certain  he  did  not  wish  to  be  recognized.  But  the 
shock  was  so  great  that  I  nearly  fainted.  I  went  up  to 
my  room,  and  afterwards  to  church  to  see  my  father.  He 
was  there,  as  you  know.  I  saw  him  pass  a  paper  to  Daisy. 
She  went  out  ten  minutes  later ;  he  followed.  I  wished 
to  see  him,  and  I  was  curious  to  know  why  he  had  come 
to  Rickwell  and  had  let  me  think  he  was  dead.  Shortly 
afterwards  I  went  outside.  It  was  snowing  fast.  I  could 
not  see  my  father  or  Daisy.  Suddenly  I  came  across  my 
father.  He  was  beside  the  grave  of  Mr.  Kent.  Daisy 
was  lying  on  the  ground.  He  gasped  out  that  she  was 
dead,  and  implored  me  to  save  him." 

"Do  you  think  he  killed  her?" 

"No.  Afterwards  he  denied  that  he  did.  But  at  the 
time  I  believed  that  he  was  guilty.  I  saw  that  he  would 
be  arrested,  and  in  a  frenzy  of  alarm  I  cast  about  for 
some  means  to  save  him.  I  remembered  your  motor-car 
was  waiting  at  the  gates.  I  sent  Trim  away  on  an  er- 
rand  " 

"I  know,  I  know !     You  deceived  him  !" 

"To  save  my  father,"  replied  Anne  quietly.  "I  got  the 
car  in  this  way  and  went  off  with  my  father.  He  told 
me  to  go  to  Gravesend,  where  he  had  a  yacht  waiting. 


PART  OF  THE  TRUTH  177 

Near  Gravesend  the  car  upset.  We  left  it  on  the  road- 
side and  walked  to  Tilbury.  A  boatman  ferried  us  across 
the  river,  and  we  went  on  board  the  yacht." 

"Did  you  know  your  father  was  the  owner  of  the 
yacht  ?'' 

"No,  I  did  not.  He  said  that  it  belonged  to  a  friend. 
We  departed  in  the  yacht  and  went  to  a  French  port,  then 
on  to  Paris." 

"And  it  was  from  Paris  that  you  sent  me  the  drawing 
of  the  coin." 

"Yes;  I  knew  that  appearances  were  against  me,  and 
could  not  bear  to  think  that  you  should  believe  me  guilty. 
I  did  not  dare  to  send  any  letter,  but  I  knew  you  would 
recognize  the  drawing  of  the  Edward  VH.  coin,  and  so 
sent  it  as  you  saw." 

"How  long  did  you  stay  in  Paris  ?" 

"For  some  weeks.  Then  we  went  to  Italy,  to  Flor- 
ence." 

"Wasn't  your  father  recognized?" 

"No;  he  had  altered  his  appearance.  He  gave  me  no 
reason  at  first  for  doing  this,  but  afterwards  told  me  that 
he  was  engaged  in  a  political  conspiracy,  something  to  do 
with  the  Anarchists." 

"Is  the  red  cross  the  symbol  of  some  society?" 

"I  can't  say.  He  refused  to  explain  the  mystery  of  the 
cross  to  me.  1  admit  fully,  Giles,  that  I  cannot  under- 
stand my  father.  His  ways  are  strange,  and  he  leads  a 
most  pecuHar  life.  Afterwards  George  Franklin,  my 
uncle,  came  to  England  and  inherited  the  property.  My 
father  sent  me  to  him  with  an  explanation.  My  uncle 
refused  to  believe  that  I  was  guilty,  and  gave  me  shelter 
in  his  house  until  such  time  as  my  character  could  be 
cleared.  I  came  over  and  have  been  hiding  in  the  Priory 
ever  since.     I  was  so  sorry  for  poor  Daisy  and  for  her 


178  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  \1I. 

unexpected  death  that  I  came  to  see  after  her  grave.  I 
found  it  neglected,  and  thus  went  to  clean  it,  as  you  see. 
Portia,  my  cousin,  has  been  very  good  to  me.  I  have 
stayed  in  all  day  and  have  walked  out  in  the  evening.  No 
one  knows  that  I  am  here.  No  one  will  ever  know  un- 
less you  tell." 

"I  tell?  Anne,  what  do  you  take  me  for?  I  will  keep 
quiet  until  I  can  clear  your  character,  and  make  you  my 
wife." 

"You  must  not  see  me  again." 

"No,"  sighed  Giles,  "it  will  not  be  wise.  But  can't 
you  tell  me  who  killed  Daisy,  and  thus  clear  yourself?" 

Anne  shook  her  head. 

"I  wish  I  could.  But  my  father  declares  that  he  came 
out  to  see  the  girl,  and  found  her  already  dead  on  the 
grave  face  downwards.  She  had  been  killed  during  the 
time  he  waited  behind.  He  saw  that  there  was  a  danger 
of  his  being  accused  of  the  crime,  since  he  had  asked  her 
to  leave  the  church.  Thus  it  was  that  he  lost  his  pres- 
ence of  mind  and  called  on  me  to  save  him.  I  did  so  on 
the  impulse  of  the  moment,  and  thus  it  all  came  about." 

"Where  is  your  father  now  ?" 

Anne  thought  for  a  moment. 

"I  would  tell  you  if  I  knew,"  she  said  seriously,  "as  I 
know  you  will  not  betray  him.  But  I  don't  know  where 
he  is.  Since  I  have  been  here  I  have  not  heard  a  word 
from  him." 

"Your  uncle?" 

"If  my  uncle  knew,  he  would  hand  my  father  over  to 
the  police.     He  hates  him  ;  but  he  is  always  kind  to  me." 

"Anne,  I  wonder  if  your  uncle  killed  Daisy  to  inherit 
the  money?" 

"No;  he  was  in  Italy  at  the  time.     I  am  sure  of  that." 

"Has  your  father  any  suspicion  who  killed  Daisy  ?" 


PART  OF  THE  TRUTH  179 

"No.    He  says  he  has  not." 

"Why  did  he  ask  her  to  leave  the  church?  And  how 
did  he  manage  it  ?" 

"He  wished  to  speak  to  her  about  George  Franklin, 
•who  would  inherit  the  money  if  she  died.  I  believe  he 
intended  to  warn  her  that  George  was  dangerous,  for  he 
hates  my  uncle." 

"Did  your  father  know  that  the  money  had  been  left  at 
the  time  ?" 

"No.  It  was  only  because  he  was  on  the  spot  that  he 
wished  to  see  Daisy.  He  wrote  on  a  scrap  of  paper  that 
he  wished  to  see  her  about  the  money,  and  she  came  out." 

"She  was  always  eager  after  that  miserable  money," 
said  Ware  sadly.  "But  your  father  did  know  that 
Powell  was  dead  at  the  time,  Anne."  And  he  told  her 
of  his  discoveries  in  connection  with  the  office  boy.  "So 
you  see  your  father  was  in  England  masquerading  as  Wil- 
son," he  finished. 

"Yes,"  said  Anne,  with  a  shudder,  "I  see  now.  But  he 
told  me  nothing  of  this.  Indeed,  I  can't  understand  my 
father  at  all." 

"Do  you  know  the  meaning  of  the  Scarlet  Cross  ?" 

"No ;  he  refuses  to  tell  me.  He  won't  say  why  he  pre- 
tended to  be  dead ;  and  in  every  way  he  is  most  mysterious. 
But  I  am  fond  of  my  father,  Giles,  although  I  know  he  is 
not  a  good  man.  But  he  did  not  kill  Daisy ;  I  am  sure  of 
that.  And  even  at  the  time  I  thought  he  had  done  so  I 
saved  him.  After  all  he  may  be  as  bad  as  possible ;  but 
he  is  my  father,  and  I  owe  him  a  daughter's  aflfection." 

Giles  would  have  argued  this,  but  at  the  moment  Anne 
started  to  her  feet.  She  heard  the  sound  of  approaching 
footsteps,  and  without  a  word  to  Giles  she  flew  over  the 
low  wall  and  darted  across  the  park.  He  was  too  aston- 
ished by  this  sudden  departure  to  say  a  word.  He  had 
lost  her  again.    But  he  knew  where  she  was  after  all. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


WHAT   HAPPENED   NEXT 


GILES  left  the  churchyard  slowly,  with  his  brain  in  a 
whirl.  Anne  had  departed  in  hot  haste,  taking 
shelter  in  her  hiding-place,  and  he  dare  not  follow  unless 
he  wanted  it  to  be  discovered.  He  never  knew  who  it 
was,  whose  footsteps  had  startled  her  away.  When  she  left 
him  he  remained  for  quite  ten  minutes  where  he  was,  in  a 
kind  of  dazed  condition.  The  footsteps  were  not  heard 
now.  So  intent  had  he  been  upon  Anne's  flight,  and  on 
the  amazing  things  she  had  told  him,  that  he  had  not 
noticed  when  they  ceased.  Then  it  occurred  to  him  that 
they  had  retreated — just  as  though  a  person  had  been 
listening  and  had  hastily  gone  away.  But  of  this  he 
could  not  be  sure.  All  he  did  know  was  that  when  he 
rounded  the  corner  there  was  not  a  soul  in  sight.  And 
nothing  remained  but  to  go  home. 

Olga  and  her  mother  did  not  put  in  an  appearance  on 
this  night,  so  Giles  had  ample  time  to  think  over  his  meet- 
ing with  Anne.  He  did  not  see  how  he  could  help  her, 
and  the  story  she  had  related  bewildered,  instead  of  en- 
lightening him.  After  a  time  he  rearranged  the  details, 
and  concluded  that,  in  spite  of  all  denial,  her  father  was 
the  guilty  person,  and  the  crime  had  been  committed  for 
the  sake  of  the  Powell  money. 


WHAT  HAPPENED  NEXT  i8i 

"Whether  the  Scarlet  Cross  indicates  a  pohtical  society 
or  is  the  symbol  of  a  thieves'  association,"  said  Giles  to 
himself,  "I  can't  say  until  Steel  is  more  certain  of  his 
ground.  But  this  Alfred  Denham,  or  Walter  Franklin, 
or  whatever  he  chooses  to  call  himself,  is  evidently  a  bad 
lot.  He  has  sufficient  love  for  his  daughter  to  keep  his 
iniquities  from  her,  and  that  is  why  Anne  is  so  much  in 
the  dark.  I  quite  believe  that  she  thinks  her  father  in- 
nocent, and  saved  him  on  the  spur  of  the  moment.  But 
he  is  guilty  for  all  that." 

And  then  Giles  proceeded  to  work  out  the  case  as  it 
presented  itself  to  him.  Walter  Franklin — as  he  found 
it  most  convenient  to  call  him — was  a  scoundrel  who 
preyed  on  society,  and  who  by  some  mischance  had  a  pure 
and  good  daughter  like  Anne.  To  keep  her  from  know- 
ing how  bad  he  was — and  the  man  apparently  valued  her 
affection — he  sent  her  to  be  a  governess.  She  believed  in 
him,  not  knowing  how  he  was  plotting  to  get  the  Powell 
money. 

Certainly  Walter  had  resided  in  Florence  under  the 
name  of  Denham.  Ware  quite  believed  this,  and  guessed 
that  he  did  so  in  order  to  keep  an  eye  on  his  brother 
George,  who  was  to  inherit  the  Powell  money.  Probably 
he  knew  beforehand  that  Powell  was  ill,  and  so  had 
feigned  death  that  he  might  carry  out  his  scheme  without 
Anne's  knowledge.  That  scheme  was  to  impersonate  his 
brother ;  and  Giles  trembled  to  think  of  how  he  proposed  to 
get  rid  of  George  when  the  time  was  ripe.  He  must  have 
intended  to  murder  him,  for  since  he  had  slain  Daisy  with 
so  little  compunction,  he  certainly  would  not  stick  at  a 
second  crime. 

However,  thus  Giles  argued,  the  first  step  to  secure 
the  money  was  for  him  to  feign  death  and  thus  get  rid 
of  Anne.       Then  he  came  to  London,  and  as  Wilson 


i82  A  COIN  OF.  EDWARD  VII. 

stopped  with  Mrs.  Benker  in  order  to  spy  on  the  Ashers 
through  Alexander.  As  soon  as  he  knew  for  certain  that 
Powell  was  dead  and  that  the  money  was  coming  to  Daisy, 
he  came  down  to  Rickwell  on  the  errand  of  serving  the 
summons,  and  then  had  lured  the  girl  outside  of  the  church 
to  kill  her.  But  for  Anne  following  him,  he  would  have 
disappeared  into  the  night  and  no  one  would  have  been 
the  wiser. 

But  the  appearance  of  his  daughter  in  the  library  up- 
set his  plans.  She  followed  him  into  the  church  and  came 
out  to  find  him  near  the  dead  body.  He  certainly  made 
an  excuse,  but  Giles  believed  that  such  was  a  lie.  If  he 
had  confessed  to  the  crime,  even  Anne  might  not  have 
stopped  with  him.  But  here  Giles  remembered  that  at  the 
time  of  the  flight  Anne  really  believed  that  her  father 
was  guilty.  At  all  events  he  had  made  use  of  her  to  get 
away,  and  thus  had  reached  the  yacht  at  Gravesend.  It 
was  waiting  for  him  there,  in  order  that  he  might  fly 
after  the  crime  was  committed.  Perhaps  he  intended  to 
walk  to  Tilbury,  and  crossing  the  Thames  get  on  board 
the  yacht  before  the  hue-and-cry  was  out.  Anne  ham- 
pered his  plans  in  some  measure  and  then,  by  means  of 
the  stolen  motor-car,  assisted  them.  Thus  the  man  had 
got  away,  and  by  the  murder  of  the  g^rl  had  opened  the 
way  to  George  inheriting  the  money. 

"They  went  to  Paris,"  mused  Giles,  "then  to  Florence. 
I  daresay  this  Walter  intended  to  send  Anne  away  on 
some  excuse  and  to  murder  his  brother  in  Florence.  Then 
he  could  slip  into  the  dead  man's  shoes,  and  come  to  in- 
herit— as  George — the  property  of  Powell.  Probably 
George  left  Florence  before  Walter  arrived,  and  thus 
escaped  death.  He  is  safe  so  far,  but  how  long  will  he 
be  safe?" 

Then  a  terrible  thought  occurred  to  Giles.     He  won- 


WHAT  HAPPENED  NEXT  183 

dered  if  Walter  had  placed  his  daughter  at  the  Priory 
so  as  to  have  an  opportunity  of  coming  to  see  his  brother, 
and  thus  seizing  his  chance  of  killing  him.  Anne,  inno- 
cent as  she  was  of  the  real  meaning  of  these  terrible 
schemes,  might  be  a  decoy.  If  her  father  came,  George 
would  be  murdered.  Walter,  who  was  able  to  disguise 
himself  with  infernal  ingenuity,  might  slip  into  the  dead 
man's  shoes,  and  thus  the  money  he  had  schemed  for 
would  come  to  him.  Evidently  the  last  act  of  the  tragedy 
was  not  yet  played  out. 

The  more  Giles  puzzled  over  the  matter,  the  more  be- 
wildered he  became.  He  could  see — as  he  thought — 
what  had  been  done,  but  he  could  not  guess  how  the  last 
act  was  to  be  carried  out.  Yet  Walter  Franklin  was 
hiding  somewhere  waiting  to  pounce  out  on  his  unsus- 
pecting brother,  and  the  second  crime  might  involve  Anne 
still  deeper  in  the  nefarious  transactions  of  her  father. 
Finally  Giles  made  up  his  mind  to  seek  George  Franklin 
at  the  Priory  and  tell  him  what  he  thought.  The  man 
should  at  least  be  put  on  his  guard.  It  may  be  said  that 
Ware  fancied  he  might  be  permitted  to  see  Anne  as  a  re- 
ward for  his  kind  warning. 

Before  calling  on  Franklin  he  went  to  see  the  foreign 
ladies.  To  his  surprise  both  had  left  by  the  early  morn- 
ing train.  There  was  a  note  from  Olga,  which  informed 
him  that  her  mother  had  insisted  on  returning  to  town, 
finding  the  country  cold  and  dull.  The  note  added  that 
she — Olga — would  be  glad  to  see  him  at  the  Westminster 
flat  as  soon  as  he  could  come  to  London,  and  ended  with 
the  remark  that  he  had  yet  to  give  his  answer  to  her  ques- 
tion. Giles  was  relieved  when  he  read  this.  Olga  was 
gone,  and  the  two  days  of  probation  were  extended  in- 
definitely. He  might  find  some  way  of  releasing  Anne 
before  he  need  give  this  dreadful  answer.     Again  and 


i84  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

again  did  he  bless  the  selfishness  of  the  elder  Princess, 
which  had  removed  the  obstacle  of  Olga  from  his  path. 

Meanwhile  he  put  her  out  of  his  mind  and  went  on  to 
the  Priory.  He  called  in  on  the  way  to  see  Morley,  but 
learned  that  the  little  man  had  gone  to  town.  Mrs.  Mor- 
ley looked  more  worn  and  haggard  than  ever,  and  seemed 
about  to  say  something  as  Giles  was  taking  his  leave. 
However,  she  held  her  peace  and  merely  informed  him 
that  she  missed  her  children  dreadfully.  "But  I'm  sure 
that  is  not  what  she  meant  to  say,"  thought  Ware,  as  he 
departed.  On  looking  back  he  saw  her  thin  white  face 
at  the  window  and  concluded — as  Mrs.  Parry  did — that 
the  poor  lady  had  something  on  her  mind. 

In  due  time  he  arrived  at  the  Priory  and  was  shown 
into  a  gloomy  drawing-room,  where  George  Franklin  re- 
ceived him.  Giles  apologized  for  not  having  called  be- 
fore, and  was  graciously  pardoned. 

"And,  indeed,  I  should  have  called  on  you,  Mr.  Ware," 
said  Franklin,  "but  I  am  such  a  recluse  that  I  rarely  go 
out." 

"You  call  on  Mr.  Morley,  I  believe?" 

"Yes;  he  is  a  cheery  man,  and  won't  take  no  for  an 
answer.  I  find  that  his  company  does  me  good,  but  I 
prefer  to  be  alone  with  my  books." 

There  were  many  books  in  the  room  and  many  loose 
papers  on  the  desk,  which  Giles  saw  were  manuscripts. 
"I  write  sometimes,"  said  Franklin,  smiling  in  his  sour 
way.  "It  distracts  my  mind  from  worries.  I  am  writing 
a  history  of  Florence  during  the  age  of  the  Renaissance." 

"A  very  interesting  period,"  Giles  assured  him. 

"Yes;  and  my  daughter  Portia  helps  me  a  great  deal. 
You  have  met  her,  IVIr.  Ware.     She  told  me." 

"Yes ;  we  met  in  the  park.  She  was  looking  for  some- 
thing, which  I  found ;  but  I  gave  it  to — to "     Giles 


WHAT  HAPPENED  NEXT  185 

hesitated,  for  he  was  on  dangerous  ground.  "To  another 
lady,"  he  finished  desperately,  and  waited  for  the  storm 
to  break. 

To  his  surprise  the  man  smiled.  "You  mean  my  niece 
Anne,"  said  he  in  the  calmest  way. 

"Yes;  I  do  mean  Miss  Denham.  But  I  did  not  know 
that— that " 

"That  I  wished  you  to  know  she  was  under  my  roof. 
Is  that  it  ?" 

"Yes,"  stammered  Giles,  quite  at  sea.  He  did  not  ex- 
pect this  candor. 

Franklin  rather  enjoyed  his  confusion.  "I  did  not  in- 
tend to  let  you  know  that  she  was  here.  It  was  her  own 
request  that  you  were  kept  in  ignorance.  But  since  you 
met  her " 

"Did  you  hear  of  our  meeting?" 

"Certainly,  Anne  told  me  of  it  directly  she  came  back. 
Oh,  I  have  heard  all  about  you,  Mr.  Ware.  ]My  niece 
confessed  that  you  loved  her,  and  from  Morley  I  heard 
that  you  defended  her." 

"Did  Morley  know  that  Anne  was  here?" 
,     "Certainly  not.     At  the  outset  of  our  acquaintance  he 
informed  me  that  he  believed  her  to  be  guilty.     I  resolved 
to  say  nothing,  lest  he  might  tell  the  police." 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  him  that  she  was  innocent?" 
asked  Giles  hotly. 

The  man  looked  grave  and  smoothed  his  shaven  chin — 
a  habit  with  him  when  perplexed.  "Because  I  could  not 
do  so  without  telling  an  untruth,"  he  said  coldly. 

Giles  started  to  his  feet,  blazing  with  anger.  "What !" 
he  cried,  "can  you  sit  there  and  tell  me  that  your  own 
niece  killed  that  poor  girl?" 

"I  have  reason  to  believe  that  she  did,"  replied  Frank- 
lin. 


i86  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"She  told  me  she  was  innocent,"  began  Ware. 

Franklin  intcrnipted.  "She  loves  you  too  well  to  say 
otherwise.     But  she  is — guilty." 

"I  would  not  believe  that  if  she  told  me  herself." 

"Sit  down,  Mr.  Ware,"  said  Franklin,  after  a  pause. 
"I'll  explain  exactly  how  the  confession  came  about." 

Giles  took  his  seat  again,  and  eyed  his  host  pale  but 
defiant.  "It  is  no  use  your  saying  anything  against  Anne. 
She  is  innocent." 

"Mr.  Ware,  I  believed  that  when  she  first  came  to  me. 
I  hate  my  brother  because  he  is  a  bad  man ;  but  I  liked 
his  niece,  and  when  she  came  to  me  for  shelter  I  took  her 
in,  notwithstanding  the  enormity  of  the  crime  which  she 
was  accused  of  having  committed," 

"It  gained  you  your  fortune,"  said  Ware  bitterly. 

"I  would  rather  have  been  without  a  fortune  gained 
at  such  a  price,"  answered  Franklin  coldly ;  "but  I  really 
believed  Anne  guiltless.  She  defended  her  father,  but  I 
fancied,  since  she  had  helped  him  to  escape,  that  he  had 
killed  the  poor  girl." 

"And  he  did,"  cried  Giles.     "I  am  sure  he  did." 

"He  had  no  motive." 

"Oh  yes,  to  get  the  money — the  five  thousand  a  year." 

"You  forget.     By  Miss  Kent's  death  that  came  to  me." 

"Your  brother  would  have  found  means  to  get  it.  I 
believe  he  will  find  means  yet." 

"I  don't  understand  you.  Will  you  explam?" 
Franklin  seemed  fairly  puzzled  by  Giles'  remarks,  so 
the  young  man  set  forth  the  theory  he  had  formed  about 
the  murder.  At  first  Mr.  Franklin  smiled  satirically;  but- 
after  a  time  his  face  became  grave,  and  he  seemed  agi- 
tated. When  Giles  ended  he  walked  the  room  in  a  state 
of  subdued  irritation. 

"What  have  I  done  to  be  so  troubled  with  such  a  rela- 


WHAT  HAPPENED   NEXT  187 

tive  as  Walter?"  he  said  aloud.  "I  believe  you  are  right, 
Mr.  Ware.  He  may  attempt  my  life  to  get  the  money; 
and  as  we  are  rather  like  one  another  in  appearance  he 
may  be  able  to  pass  himself  off  as  me.  Why,  there  was  a 
woman  here  who  called  herself  Mrs.  Benker.  She  in- 
sisted that  I  was  called  Wilson,  under  which  name  she 
knew  my  brother  Walter.  So  you  must  see  how  easily 
he  could  impose  on  every  one.  I  am  dark  and  clean- 
shaven; he  is  red-haired  and  bearded.  But  a  razor  and 
a  pot  of  black  dye  would  soon  put  that  to  rights.  Yes, 
he  might  attempt  my  murder.  But  do  not  let  us  saddle 
him  with  a  crime  of  which  he  is  guiltless.  Anne  killed 
the  girl.     I  assure  you  this  is  the  truth." 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  cried  Giles  fiercely. 

"Nevertheless" — Franklin  paused  and  then  came  for- 
ward swiftly  to  place  a  sympathetic  hand  on  the  young 
man's  shoulder — "I  heard  her  say  so  myself.  She  con- 
fessed to  me  that  she  had  met  you,  and  seemed  much  agi- 
tated. Then  she  ran  out  of  this  room  to  another.  Fear- 
ing she  was  ill,  I  followed,  and  found  her  on  her  knees 
praying.  She  said  aloud  that  she  had  deceived  you,  stat- 
ing that  she  could  not  bear  to  lose  your  love  by  proclaim- 
ing herself  a  murderess." 

"No,  no ;  I  won't  listen."     Giles  closed  his  ears. 

"Be  a  man,  Mr.  Ware.  Anne  is  ill  now.  She  con- 
fessed the  truth  to  me,  and  then  fled  to  her  bedroom. 
This  morning  she  was  very  ill,  as  my  daughter  Portia  as- 
sured me.  Portia  is  out  of  the  house.  If  you  will  come 
with  me,  you  will  hear  the  truth  from  Anne  herself.  She 
is  so  ill  that  she  will  not  try  to  deceive  you  now.  But  if 
she  does  confess,  you  must  promise  not  to  give  her  up  to 
the  police.    She  is  suffering  agonies,  poor  child !" 

"I'll  come  at  once,"  said  Giles  bravely,  starting  to  his 
feet.    And  it  was  brave  of  him,  for  he  dreaded  the  truth. 


i88  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"If  she  confesses  this,  I'll  go  away  and  never  see  her 
again.  The  poUce — ah,  you  needn't  think  I  would  give 
her  up  to  the  police.  But  if  she  is  guilty  (and  I  can't 
believe  such  a  thing  of  her)  I'll  tear  her  out  of  my  heart. 
But  it's  impossible,  impossible !" 

Franklin  looked  at  iiini  with  a  pitying  smile  as  he  hid 
his  face  in  his  hands.  Then  he  touched  him  on  the  shoul- 
der and  led  the  way  along  a  passage  towards  the  back 
part  of  the  house.  At  a  door  at  the  end  he  paused.  "The 
room  is  rather  dark.  You  won't  see  her  clearly,"  he  said, 
"but  you  will  know  her  by  her  voice." 

"I  would  know  her  anyway,"  cried  Giles  fiercely,  and 
tormented  beyond  endurance. 

Franklin  gave  him  another  glance,  as  though  asking 
him  to  brace  himself  for  the  ordeal,  and  tlien  opened  the 
door.  He  showed  small  mercy  in  announcing  Ware's 
coming.  "Anne,  here  is  Mr.  Ware  come  to  see  you.  Tell 
him  the  truth." 

The  room  was  not  very  large,  and  was  enveloped  in  a 
semi-gloom.  The  blind  was  pulled  down,  and  the  cur- 
tains were  drawn.  The  bed  was  near  the  window,  and 
on  it  lay  Anne  in  a  white  dress.  She  was  lying  on  the 
bed  with  a  rug  thrown  over  her  feet.  When  she  heard 
the  name  of  Giles  she  uttered  a  cry.  "Keep  him  away ! 
she  said  harshly.  "Keep  him  away !  Don't  let  him 
come !" 

"Anne  !  Anne !''  cried  Giles,  coming  forward,  his  mouth 
dry,  his  hands  clenched.  "Do  not  tell  me  that  you  killed 
Daisy." 

There  was  a  groan  and  silence,  but  Anne — so  far  as 
he  could  see — buried  her  face  in  the  pillow.  It  was  Frank- 
lin who  spoke.  "Anne,  you  must  tell  the  truth  once  and 
for  all." 

"No,  no,"  she  cried,  "Giles  would  despise  me." 


WHAT  HAPPENED  NEXT  189 

"Anne,"  he  cried  in  agony,  "did  you  kill  her?" 
"Yes,"  came  the  muffled  voice  from  the  bed.  "I  found 
her  at  the  grave.  My  father  was  not  there.  He  had 
missed  her  in  the  darkness  and  the  snow.  She  taunted 
me.  I  had  the  stiletto,  which  I  took  from  the  library, 
and  I  killed  her.  It  was  my  father  who  saved  me.  Oh, 
go  away,  Giles,  go  away !'' 

But  Giles  did  not  go.  He  rose  to  his  feet  and  stepped 
towards  the  window.  In  a  second  he  had  the  blind  up 
and  the  curtains  drawn  apart.  The  light  poured  into  the 
room  to  reveal — not  Anne  Denham,  but  the  girl  Portia 
Franklin, 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  CLUE  LEADS  TO  LONDON 

IT  was  indeed  Portia.  Seeing  that  she  was  discovered, 
she  sprang  from  the  bed  and  faced  Giles  with  a  sullen, 
defiant  look  on  her  freckled  face.  Still  standing  in  the 
strong  light  which  poured  in  through  the  window,  Ware 
looked  at  the  girl  satirically. 

"You  are  a  very  clever  mimic,  Miss  Franklin,"  said  he, 
"but  you  rather  forgot  yourself  in  that  last  speech.  Anne 
is  of  too  sensitive  a  nature  to  have  explained  herself  with 
such  a  wealth  of  detail." 

"You  were  deceived  at  first,"  grumbled  Portia,  rocking 
herself. 

"Only  for  a  moment,"  replied  Giles.  "And  now  I 
should  like  to  know  the  meaning  of  this  masquerade?" 

"I  also,"  cried  Franklin,  in  his  turn.  He  was  staring  at 
his  daughter  with  a  look  of  profound  amazement.  "Where 
is  Anne,  you  wretched  girl  ?" 

"She  has  run  away." 

"Run  away !"  exclaimed  the  men  simultaneously. 

"Yes.  After  your  finding  out  last  night  that  she  had 
killed  Daisy  Kent  she  was  afraid  to  stop.  She  knew  that 
you  hated  her  father,  and  thought  you  might  hand  her 


THE  CLUE  LEADS  TO  LONDON    191' 

over  to  the  police.  Last  night  she  told  me  so,  and  said 
she  would  run  away.  I  love  Anne,  and  I  let  her  do  as 
she  liked.  It  was  I  who  let  her  out,"  ended  Portia,  de- 
fiantly. 

"Anne  should  not  have  so  mistrusted  me,"  cried  Frank- 
lin, much  perturbed.  "Surely  I  always  protected  her,  and 
treated  her  well." 

"Ah,  but  you  didn't  know  till  last  night  that  she  was 
guilty." 

"No;    but  for  all  that "  began  Franklin,  only  to 

break  ofif.    "Where  has  she  gone?"  he  demanded  angrily. 

"I  don't  know.  She  had  some  money,  and  took  a  small 
black  bag  with  her.  She  said  when  she  got  settled  she 
would  write  here  and  let  me  know  where  she  was,  on  con- 
dition that  I  did  not  tell  you." 

"She  has  every  reason  to.  Poor,  miserable  girl !  to  be 
an  outcast,  and  now  to  leave  her  only  refuge,"  he  sighed 
and  shook  his  head.  Giles  all  the  time  had  been  watching 
Portia,  whose  face  bore  an  expression  of  obstinacy  worthy 
of  a  mule.  "Did  this  scheme  for  Anne's  departure  in- 
clude the  masquerade  you  have  indulged  in  ?" 

"It  is  my  own  idea,"  she  retored  defiantly.  "Anne 
wished  to  get  away  without  my  father  knowing,  so  I 
stopped  in  her  room  and  pretended  to  be  Anne.  The  ser- 
vants were  deceived,  as  I  knew  exactly  how  to  imitate  her 
voice.  I  pulled  down  the  blind,  so  that  no  one  should  see 
who  I  was.    Only  you  could  have  guessed  the  truth." 

"How  is  that?" 

"Because  you  love  her." 

Giles  thought  this  a  strange  speech  for  the  heavy-look- 
ing girl  to  make.  "Is  that  an  original  remark  on  your 
part?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  she  confessed  candidly ;  "I  suggested  to  Anne 
that  I  should  pass  myself  off  as  her,  and  so  give  her  a 


192  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

longer  time  to  get  away.  She  said  that  I  might  deceive 
tlie  servants  and  my  father,  but  that  I  could  never  deceive 
you,  because  you  loved  her.  But  I  had  a  good  try,"  con- 
tinued Portia,  nodding  her  red  head  triumphantly. 
"When  my  father  spoke  your  name  at  the  door  I  thought 
I  would  try." 

"Well,  you  have  done  so  only  to  fail,"  responded  Ware 
coolly.  "For  the  moment  I  was  deceived,  but  you  forgot 
how  to  manage  your  voice,  and,  moreover,  your  explana- 
tion was  too  elaborate.  But  how  is  it  you  dare  to  con- 
fess, as  Anne,  that  she  killed  the  girl  ?" 

"Anne  did  kill  Daisy  Kent !" 

"She  did  not." 

"Yes,  she  did.  She  confessed  as  much  to  father  last 
night,  and  to  me  also.  She  asked  me  to  tell  you  so,  that 
you  might  forget  all  about  her.  I  was  going  over  to  your 
place  this  very  day  to  tell,  but  when  father  brought  you 
in  I  thought  I  would  pretend  to  be  Anne  and  tell  you  in 
that  way." 

"Anne  would  have  written,  and " 

"No,  she  wouldn't,"  said  Portia,  eagerly.  "She  began 
to  write  a  letter  saying  that  she  was  guilty,  but  afterwards 
she  thought  it  might  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  police,  and 
tore  it  up.  She  told  me  to  let  you  know  by  word  of 
mouth.  All  she  asks  of  }Ou  is  that  you  will  forget  that 
she  ever  existed." 

"Let  her  tell  me  that  with  her  own  lips,"  said  Giles, 
groaning. 

"Yes,  Portia,  tell  Mr.  Ware  the  place  Anne  has  gone 
to." 

Portia  eyed  her  father  with  some  anger.  "How  can  I 
toll  when  I  don't  know  ?  Anne  never  said  where  she  was 
roirg.  I  let  her  out  by  the  back  door  just  before  dawn, 
and  she  went  away.    I  know  no  more." 


THE  CLUE  LEADS  TO  LONDON    193 

"If  she  writes,  you  will  let  Mr.  Ware  know." 

"I  shan't,"'  retorted  the  girl.  "Anne  wants  him  to  for- 
get her." 

"That  is  impossible,"  said  Giles,  whose  face  was  now 
haggard  with  the  anguish  of  the  moment ;  "but  you  must 
be  my  friend,  Portia,  and  tell  me.    Think  how  I  suffer !" 

"Think  how  she  suffers,  poor  darling!"  cried  Portia, 
whose  sympathies  were  all  with  Anne.  "Don't  ask  me 
any  more.    I  shan't  speak." 

And  speak  she  would  not,  although  Giles  cajoled  and 
Franklin  stormed.  Whatever  could  be  said  of  Portia,  she 
was  very  loyal  to  the  outcast.  There  was  nothing  for  it 
but  for  Ware  to  depart.    And  this  he  did. 

What  was  the  best  thing  to  be  done  Giles  did  not  very 
well  know.  Anne  was  lost  again,  and  he  did  not  know 
where  to  look  for  her.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to 
believe  that  she  was  guilty,  in  spite  of  her  confession  to 
Portia  and  Franklin. 

"It's  that  blackguard  of  a  father  of  hers  over  again," 
he  thought,  as  he  tramped  moodily  through  the  Priory 
park.  "She  is  afraid  lest  his  brother — her  uncle — should 
denounce  him,  and  has  taken  the  crime  on  her  own  shoul- 
ders. Even  though  he  is  her  father,  she  should  not  sacri- 
fice so  much  for  him.  But  it  is  just  noble  of  her  to  do  so. 
Oh,  my  poor  love,  shall  I  ever  be  able  to  shelter  you  from 
the  storms  of  life?" 

There  did  not  seem  to  be  much  chance  of  it  at  the  pres- 
ent moment.  Mistrusting  her  uncle,  she  had  vanished,  and 
would  let  no  one  but  Portia  know  of  her  new  hiding-place. 
And  Portia,  as  Giles  saw,  was  too  devoted  to  Anne  to 
confess  her  whereabouts  without  permission.  And  how 
was  such  permission  to  be  obtained?  Anne  allowed  her 
uncle  to  think  her  guilty  in  order  to  save  her  unworthy 
father  from  his  fraternal  hatred.     She  had  asserted  her 


194  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

innocence  to  Giles,  but  had  apparently,  through  Portia, 
tried  to  deceive  him  again,  so  that  he  might  not  follow. 
her.  "Poor  darling!"  cries  Giles,  full  of  pity,  "she  wishes 
to  put  me  out  of  her  life,  and  has  fled  to  avoid  incriminat- 
ing her  father.  If  she  told  me  the  whole  truth  her  father 
would  be  in  danger,  and  she  chooses  to  bear  his  guilt 
herself.  But  why  should  she  think  I  would  betray  the 
man?  Bad  as  he  is,  I  should  screen  him  for  her  dear 
sake.  Oh" — Giles  stopped  and  looked  up  appealingly  to 
the  hot,  blue  sky — "if  I  only  knew  where  she  was  to  be 
found,  if  I  could  only  hold  her  in  my  arms,  never,  never 
would  I  let  her  go,  again !  My  poor  Quixotic  darling, 
shall  I  ever  be  worthy  of  such  nobility  ?" 

It  was  all  very  well  apostrophizing  the  sky,  but  such 
heroics  did  not  help  him  in  any  practical  way.  He  cast 
about  in  his  own  mind  to  consider  in  which  direction  she 
had  gone.  The  nearest  railway  station  to  London  was 
five  miles  away ;  but  she  would  not  leave  the  district  thus 
openly,  for  the  stationmaster  knew  her  well.  She  had  fre- 
quently travelled  from  that  centre  as  Miss  Denham,  and 
he  would  be  sure  to  recognize  her,  even  though  she  wore 
a  veil.  Anne,  as  Giles  judged,  would  not  risk  such  recog- 
nition. 

Certainly  there  was  another  station  ten  miles  distant, 
which  was  very  little  used  by  the  Rickwell  people.  She 
might  have  tramped  that  distance,  and  have  taken  a  ticket 
to  London  from  there.  But  was  it  her  intention  to  go  to 
London  ?  Giles  thought  it  highly  probable  that  she  would. 
Anne,  as  he  knew  from  Portia,  had  very  little  money,  and 
it  would  be  necessary  for  her  to  seek  out  some  friend. 
She  would  probably  go  to  Mrs.  Cairns,  for  Mrs.  Cairns 
believed  her  to  be  guiltless,  and  would  shelter  her  in  the 
meantime.  Later  on  a  situation  could  be  procured  for  her 
abroad,  and  she  could  leave  England  under  a  feigned 


THE  CLUE  LE.\DS  TO  LONDON  19S 

name.  Giles  felt  that  this  was  the  course  Anne  would 
adopt,  and  he  determined  to  follow  the  clue  suggested  by 
this  theory. 

Having  made  up  his  mind  to  this  course,  Giles  hurried 
home  to  pack  a  few  things  and  arrange  for  his  immediate 
departure.  Chance,  or  rather  Providence,  led  him  past 
"Mrs.  Parry's  Eye"  about  five  o'clock.  Of  course,  the 
good  lady  was  behind  the  window  spying  on  all  and  sun- 
dry, as  usual.  She  caught  sight  of  Giles  striding  along 
the  road  with  bent  head  and  a  discouraged  air.  Wonder- 
ing what  was  the  matter  and  desperately  anxious  to  know^ 
Mrs.  Parry  sent  out  Jane  to  intercept  him  and  ask  him  in. 
Giles  declined  to  enter  at  first ;  but  then  it  struck  him  that 
since  he  was  in  search  of  information  about  Anne,  Mrs. 
Parry  might  know  something.  Her  knowledge  was  so 
omniscient  that,  for  all  he  knew,  she  might  have  been 
aware  all  the  time  of  Anne's  presence  at  the  Priory,  but 
held  her  tongue — which  Mrs.  Parry  could  do  sometimes — 
out  of  pity  for  the  girl's  fate.  Giles  went  in  resolved  to 
pump  Mrs.  Parry  without  mentioning  what  he  knew  of 
Anne.  Supposing  she  was  ignorant,  he  was  not  going 
to  be  the  one  to  reveal  Anne's  refuge.  And  if  she  did 
know.  Ware  was  certain  that  Mrs.  Parry  would  tell  him 
all,  since  she  was  aware  how  deeply  he  loved  the  gover- 
ness. Thus  in  another  five  minutes  the  young  man  found 
himself  seated  in  the  big  armchair  opposite  the  old  lady. 
She  was  rather  grim  with  him. 

"You  have  not  been  to  see  me  for  ever  so  long,"  said 
she,  rubbing  her  beaky  nose.  "Your  Royal  Princesses 
have  taken  up  too  much  of  your  time,  I  suppose.  Oh,  I 
know  all  about  them." 

"I  am  sorry  they  did  not  stay  for  a  few  days,"  replied 
Giles  in  his  most  amiable  tone.  "I  wished  to  introduce 
them  to  3^Cm."' 


196  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Vou  mean  present  me  to  them,"  corrected  the  old 
dame,  who  was  a  stickler  for  etiquette.  "They  are  genu- 
ine Princesses,  are  they  not?" 

"Oh,  yes.  But  they  are  not  royal.  Princess  Karacsay 
is  the  wife  of  a  Magyar  noble.  She  is  not  an  Austrian, 
however,  as  she  came  from  Jamaica.  The  younger,  Prin- 
cess Olga,  is " 

"Jamaica,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Parry!  "Humph!  That 
is  where  Anne  Denham  was  born.  Queer  this  woman 
should  come  from  the  same  island." 

"It's  certainly  odd,"  replied  Giles.  "But  a  mere  co- 
incidence." 

"Humph !"  from  Mrs.  Parry.  "Some  folks  make  their 
own  coincidences." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Mrs.  Parry?'' 

"Mean?    Humph!    I  don't  know  if  I  should  tell  you." 

Giles  was  now  on  fire  to  learn  her  meaning.  Evidently 
Mrs.  Parry  did  know  something,  and  might  be  able  to 
help  him.  But  seeing  that  she  was  slightly  offended  with 
him,  it  required  some  tact  to  get  the  necessary  infonna- 
tion  out  of  the  old  lady.  Giles  knew  the  best  way  to  ef- 
fect his  purpose  was  to  feign  indifference.  Mrs.  Parry  was 
bursting  to  tell  her  news,  and  that  it  would  come  out  the 
sooner  if  he  pretended  that  he  did  not  much  care  to  hear 
it. 

"There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  tell  me,"  said  he 
coolly.  "I  know  all  about  the  Princess  Karacsay.  She 
and  her  daughter  only  came  down  here  for  a  rest." 

"Oh,  they  did,  did  they,  Ware?  Humph  !"  She  rubbed 
her  nose  again,  and  eyed  him  with  a  malignant  pleasure. 
"Are  you  sure  the  elder  Princess  didn't  come  down  to  see 
Franklin  ?" 

"She  doesn't  know  him,"  said  Giles,  trying  to  be  calm. 


THE  CLUE  LEADS  TO  LONDON    197 

"She  took  a  walk  in  the  Priory  woods.  I  suppose  that  is 
how  the  mistake " 

"I  don't  make  mistakes,"  retorted  Mrs,  Parry,  with  a 
snort.  "I  know  a  new  gardener  who  is  employed  at  the 
Priory.  He  told  Jane,  who  told  me,  that  Princess  Karac- 
say,  the  mother,  called  on  Franklin  the  other  morning 
and  entered  the  house.  She  was  with  him  for  over  an 
hour.  He  came  to  the  door  to  see  her  off.  The  gardener 
was  attending  to  some  shrubs  near  at  hand.  He  could  not 
hear  what  they  said  to  one  another,  but  declares  that 
Franklin  was  as  pale  as  a  sheet." 

"Queer,"  though  Giles,  remembering  how  the  elder  lady 
had  denied  all  knowledge  of  the  man.  However,  he  did 
not  make  this  remark  to  Mrs.  Parry.  "Well,  there's 
nothing  in  that,"  said  he  aloud.  "Franklin  lived  in  Italy 
for  many  years.    He  may  have  met  the  Princess  there." 

"True  enough."  Mrs.  Parry  was  rather  discomfited. 
"There  may  be  nothing  in  it,  and  Franklin  seems  to  be 
decent  enough  in  his  life,  though  a  bit  of  a  recluse.  I've 
nothing  to  say  against  the  man." 

Giles  thought  that  this  was  rather  fortunate  for  Frank- 
lin, seeing  that  Mrs.  Parry's  tongue  was  so  dangerous. 
If  she  ever  came  to  know  of  his  brother  Walter,  and  of 
the  relations  between  him  and  George,  she  would  be  sure 
to  make  mischief.  He  thought  it  prudent  to  say  nothing. 
The  less  revealed  to  the  good  lady  the  better.  However, 
this  attitude  did  not  prevent  Ware  from  trying  to  learn 
what  Mrs.  Parry  had  discovered  with  regard  to  the  two 
Princesses.  She  told  him  an  interesting  detail  without 
being  urged. 

"Last  night  about  nine  I  saw  one  of  them  out  for  a 
walk." 

"Princess  Olga?"  questioned  Giles. 

"Mrs.  Parry  nodded.     "If  she  is  the  younger  of  the 


198  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

two,  she  is  not  a  bad-looking  girl,  Ware.  She  passed  my 
window  and  went  on  to  look  at  the  church.  Rather  a 
strange  hour  to  look  at  a  church." 

Giles  started.  It  was  about  that  hour  that  he  had 
been  talking  to  Anne,  and  shortly  afterwards  she  had 
heard  the  footsteps  and  had  fled.  He  now  believed  that 
Olga  must  have  overheard  a  portion  of  the  conversation. 
It  was  her  footsteps  which  they  had  heard  retreating. 
At  once  he  remembered  Olga's  threat,  that  if  he  tam- 
pered with  Anne  in  the  meantime  she  would  have  her 
arrested.  This,  then,  was  the  reason  why  Olga  had  not 
come  to  his  house  again,  and  why  she  and  her  mother  had 
left  so  suddenly  for  London.  He  wondered  if  the  elder 
Princess  knew  about  Anne,  and  was  assisting  her  daugh- 
ter to  get  the  poor  girl  into  the  hands  of  the  law.  Giles 
turned  pale. 

"What's  the  matter,  Ware?"  asked  Mrs.  Parry,  sitting 
up. 

"Nothing,"  he  stammered ;   "but  this  coincidence- 


"Oh,  I  simply  mean  that  as  Princess  Karacsay  and 
Anne  both  came  from  Jamaica,  it  was  strange  that  they 
should  go  away  to  London  together.  Don't  you  think 
so,  too?    There  must  be  some  connection." 

Giles  started  to  his  feet.  "Anne,"  he  said  loudly,  "do 
you  know  that  Anne  is  here?" 

"She  was  here,"  said  Mrs.  Parry,  with  a  gratified 
chuckle;  "but  where  she  has  been  hiding  is  more  than 
I  know.  However,  I  am  certain  it  was  Anne  I  saw  this 
morning  on  the  moor.  She  was  veiled  and  dressed  quiet- 
ly; but  I  knew  her  walk  and  the  turn  of  her  head." 

"You  must  be  mistaken,"  said  Giles,  perplexed. 

"Indeed,  I'm  not.  Trust  one  woman  to  know  another, 
however  she  may  disguise  herself.  I  tell  you  Anne  Den- 
ham  has  been  here  in  hiding.    I  don't  believe  she  left  the 


THE  CLUE  LEADS  TO  LONDON    199 

neighborhood  after  all.  I  wonder  who  took  her  in," 
muttered  Mrs.  Parry,  rubbing  her  nose  as  usual.  *T  must 
find  that  out." 

"But  what  do  you  mean  by  saying  Anne  went  to  Lon- 
don with  the " 

"I  can  believe  my  own  eyes  and  ears,  I  suppose," 
snapped  the  good  lady.  "I  was  out  at  seven  o'clock  taking 
a  walk.  I  always  do  get  up  early  in  summer.  That  is 
how  I  keep  my  health.  I  have  no  patience  with  those 
who  lie  in  bed,  and " 

"But  what  did  you  see?" 

"Don't  you  be  impatient,  Ware.  I  want  you  to  find 
Anne,  as  I  believe  she  is  guiltless  and  has  suffered  a  lot 
unjustly.  While  you  have  been  on  a  wild-goose  chase 
she  has  been  here  all  the  time.  If  I  had  only  known  I 
should  have  told  you ;  but  I  didn't,  worse  luck." 

"I  know  you  are  my  friend,"  said  Giles,  pressing  her 
hand.  "And  you  can  help  me  by  saying  where  Anne  has 
gone  to." 

"Oh,  my  good  man,  you  must  find  that  out  for  your- 
self !  I  believe  she  has  gone  to  London  with  those  Prin- 
cesses of  yours.  At  least  that  fool  of  a  Morris  said  they 
left  his  inn  this  morning  early  to  go  to  London.  They 
drove  to  the  Westbury  Station.  That  is  the  one  we 
hardly  ever  use  down  here.  The  Bamham  Station  is  the 
nearest." 

"Yes !  yes !  The  Westbury  is  ten  miles  away.  You  go 
across  the  moor " 

"My  good  Ware,  have  I  lived  all  these  years  in  this 
place  without  knowing  it  as  well  as  I  know  my  own  nose  ? 
Hold  your  tongue,  or  I'll  tell  you  nothing.  The  coach- 
man who  drove  these  Princesses  of  yours" — Mrs.  Parry 
always  used  this  phrase  disdainfully — "is  a  new  man. 
Morris  hired  him  from  Chelmsford,  and  he  does  not  know 


200  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

Anne,  luckily  for  her.  If  it  had  been  the  old  coachman 
she  might  have  been  in  jail  by  this  time.  Well,  as  I  say, 
I  was  on  the  moor  and  saw  the  carriage  coming  along.  I 
didn't  know  that  those  Princesses  were  in  it  till  one  of 
them — the  younger — got  out  and  stood  by  the  roadside. 
I  was  close  at  hand,  and  hidden  by  a  gorse  bush.  She 
whistled.  I  tell  you.  Ware,  she  whistled.  What  manners 
these  foreigners  have !  Three  times  she  whistled.  Then 
some  one  rose  from  behind  another  bush  and  walked 
quickly  to  the  carriage.  It  was  Anne.  Oh,  don't  tell  me 
it  wasn't,"  cried  Mrs.  Parry,  vigorously  shaking  her  head. 
*T  knew  her  walk  and  the  turn  of  her  head.  Trust  me 
for  knowing  her  amongst  a  thousand.  Anne  Denham  it 
was  and  none  other." 

"What  happened  then?"  asked  Giles  anxiously. 

"Why,  this  Princess  Olga  embraced  and  kissed  her. 
Does  she  know  her?" 

"Yes.    They  have  been  friends  for  a  long  time." 

"Humph!  and    Princess   Olga's   mother   comes    from 
Jamaica,   where   Anne   was   bom,"    said    Mrs.    Parry. 
"Queer.    There  is  some  sort  of  a  connection." 

"You  are  too  suspicious,  Mrs.  Parry." 

"All  the  better.  But  I  can  see  through  a  stone  wall. 
Believe  me,  Ware,  that  if  there  isn't  some  connection  be- 
tween those  two,  I  am  a  Dutchwoman,  However,  Anne 
got  into  the  carriage  and  it  drove  away." 

Giles  caught  up  his  hat.  "To  London,"  he  cried  jubi- 
lantly. "I  know  where  Anne  is  to  be  found  now."  And 
to  Mrs.  Parry's  dismay,  he  rushed  out. 


CHAPTER  XX 

MANY  A  SLIP  'tWIXT  CUP  AND  LIP 

BUT  Giles  was  not  destined  to  go  to  London  as  quickly 
as  he  thought.  He  rushed  out  of  Mrs.  Parry's 
cottage,  leaving  that  good  lady  in  a  state  of  frenzied 
curiosity,  and  walked  rapidly  through  the  village  on  the 
road  to  his  own  house.  On  the  way  he  dropped  into 
"The  Merry  Dancer"  to  look  at  an  "A  B  C."  Morris, 
still  swelling  with  importance  over  his  illustrious  guests, 
although  these  had  now  left,  conducted  him  into  the  de- 
serted salon  and  gave  him  the  guide.  While  Giles  was 
looking  up  the  first  train,  Morley,  hot  and  dusty  and  short 
of  breath,  rushed  into  the  room. 

"Upon  my  word,  Ware,  I  think  you  must  be  deaf,"  he 
said,  wiping  his  perspiring  forehead.  "I've  been  running 
and  calling  after  you  for  the  last  five  minutes." 

"I  was  buried  in  my  own  thoughts,"  replied  Ware, 
turning  the  pages  of  the  guide  rapidly,  "wait  a  bit." 

"I  see  you  are  going  to  London,  Ware.    What's  up  ?" 

By  this  time  Giles  noted  the  earliest  train  he  could 
catch  from  Barnham  Station,  and  found  he  had  over  an 
hour  to  spare.  He  was  not  averse  to  spending  a  portion 
of  it  in  Morley's  company,  for  he  had  much  to  tell  him 
of  what  had  happened.    And  the  advice  of  the  ex-detec- 


202  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

tive  was  certain  to  be  good.    "I  am  following  Anne,"  he 
said. 

"Miss  Denham."     Morley  stared.     "Then  you  know 


"Yes,  I  know ;  I  met  her  last  night  by  accident.  And 
you  have  known  all  the  time." 

"Indeed,  I  know  nothing,"  said  the  little  man.  "I  was 
about  to  say  that  you  know  where  she  is?" 

"Franklin  did  not  tell  you  that  she  was  with  him,  then?" 

"Miss  Denham — with  Franklin — at  the  Priory?"  Mor- 
ley looked  stupefied. 

"She  has  been  there  all  the  time.  I  remember  now. 
Franklin  did  not  tell  you,  because  he  knew  that  you  would 
give  her  up  to  the  police." 

"He  told  me  nothing,"  said  Morley  slowly,  "and  if  he 
had  I  should  certainly  Have  given  her  up  to  the  police. 
Does  he  think  her  innocent?" 

Giles  shook  his  head  gloomily.  "He  did,  but  circum- 
stances have  happened  which  have  led  him  to  change  his 
opinion.  He  believes  now  that  she  is  guilty.  But  he 
would  never  have  told  you." 

"Well,  I  suppose  that  is  natural.  After  all  she  is  his 
niece,  and  although  he  hates  his  brother  Walter,  he  must 
have  some  love  for  Anne,  or  he  would  scarcely  have  taken 
her  in.  So  she  has  gone  away.  Can  you  tell  me  where 
she  is  to  be  found?" 

"Is  it  likely  that  I  should?" 

Morley  laughed  in  his  cheery  manner.  "No,"  he  re- 
plied bluntly,  "for  I  know  she  has  gone  to  London,  and 
that  you  are  following  her." 

"Quite  so.  But  London  is  a  large  place.  You  will 
not  find  her." 

"I  could  if  I  followed  you,"  said  Morley  promptly. 
"I  should  not  let  you  do  that." 


MANY  A  SLIP  'TWIXT  CUP  AND  LIP    203 

"Perhaps  not.  But  if  I  chose  I  could  circumvent  you. 
All  I  have  to  do  is  to  wire  your  description  to  Scotland 
Yard  and  you  would  be  shadowed  by  a  detective  from 
the  moment  you  left  the  Liverpool  Street  Station.  But 
you  need  not  be  afraid.  I  don't  want  to  harm  Miss  Den- 
ham.  If  she  crosses  my  path  I'll  have  her  arrested,  but  I 
won't  go  hunting  for  her." 

"I  don't  trust  you,  Morley,"  said  Ware  quietly. 

"You  ought  to.  I  have  put  you  on  your  guard  against 
myself.  If  my  intentions  were  bad,  I  should  not  have 
told  you.  But  my  detective  days  are  over,  and  Miss  Den- 
ham  can  go  scot-free  for  me.  But  I'll  tell  you  one  thing, 
Ware.    She  will  never  be  your  wife." 

"How  can  you  prophesy  that?"  asked  Giles  sharply. 

"Because  you  will  never  be  able  to  prove  her  innocence. 
I  believe  her  to  be  guilty  myself,  and  if  she  is  not,  the 
task  of  removing  the  suspicion  is  an  impossible  one.  I 
have  had  many  mysterious  cases  in  my  day,  but  this  is 
one  of  the  most  difficult." 

"I  don't  agree  with  you,"  said  Ware  promptly.  "The 
case  is  perfectly  simple.  Her  blackguard  of  a  father 
killed  Daisy  and  afterwards  intended  to  kill  his  brother 
George  and  thus  get  possession  of  the  money.  Anne 
saved  him  the  first  time,  and  to  save  him  now  from  the 
hatred  of  George  she  has  taken  his  guilt  on  her  own 
shoulders." 

"Who  told  you  all  this  ?" 

"It's  my  theory.  And  I'll  prove  the  truth  of  it,  Morley, 
by  hunting  everywhere  for  Walter  Franklin.  When  I 
find  him  I'll  wring  a  confession  out  of  him." 

"I  hope  you  will  succeed,"  said  Morley  admiringly, 
"and  you  ought  to  for  your  pluck.  So  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned, I  wash  my  hands  of  the  whole  aflfair.    You  need 


204  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

not  think  I'll  hunt  down  Miss  Denham.  Besides,"  added 
Morley,  nodding,  "I  am  going  away." 

"What!"  Giles  was  astonished.  "Are  you  leaving 
The  Elms?" 

"In  a  month's  time,"  replied  the  little  man.  "My  wife's 
doing,  not  mine.  She  has  never  got  over  a  certain  horror 
of  the  house  since  the  murder  of  that  poor  girl.  I  shall 
sell  every  stick  of  furniture  and  take  Mrs.  Morley  and 
the  children  to  the  United  States.  She  wants  to  get 
away  from  the  old  life  and  begin  a  new  one.  So  do  I. 
Rather  a  late  beginning  at  my  age,  eh,  Ware  ?" 

"What  about  your  finances?" 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Morley,  jubilantly.  "I  have 
settled  everything.  An  old  aunt  of  mine  has  died  and 
left  me  a  couple  of  thousand  a  year.  I  have  paid  every 
debt,  and  shall  leave  England  without  leaving  a  single 
creditor  behind  me.  Then  Mrs.  Morley  has  her  own 
money.  We  shall  do  very  well  in  the  States,  Ware.  I 
am  thinking  of  living  in  Washington.  A  very  pleasant 
city,  I  hear." 

"I've  never  been  there,"  replied  Giles,  making  for  the 
door,  "but  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  your  affairs  are  settled. 
There  is  no  chance  of  trouble  with  Asher  now." 

Morley  shook  his  head  with  a  jolly  laugh.  "They 
•won't  send  down  another  Walter  Franklin,  if  that  is  what 
you  mean,"  said  he. 

"They  did  not  send  him  down.    He  came  himself." 

"Yes.  I  only  spoke  generally.  Well,  I'll  be  sorry  to  go, 
for  I  have  made  some  pleasant  friends  in  Rickwell — your- 
self amongst  the  number.  But  my  wife  insists,  so  I  must 
humor  her.  There's  Franklin.  I  shall  be  sorry  to  leave 
him." 

"Is  he  not  going  also?" 


MANY  A  SLIP  TWIXT  CUP  AND  LIP    205 

Morley  looked  astonished.  "No.  Why  should  he  go? 
He  has  the  Priory  on  a  seven  years'  lease.  Besides,  he 
likes  the  place." 

"He  might  go  to  escape  his  brother." 

"I  don't  think  Walter  Franklin  will  dare  to  trouble 
George  now.  He  is  innocent  of  actually  committing  this 
crime,  but  he  certainly  is  an  accessory  after  the  fact. 
He'll  keep  out  of  the  way." 

"Let  us  hope  so  for  the  sake  of  George.  Well,  Morley, 
I  must  be  off." 

Giles  went  home  at  top  speed,  and  Morley  remained 
at  the  inn  to  make  inquiries  about  the  Hungarian  Prin- 
cesses. Although  he  was  not  now  a  detective,  yet  Mor- 
ley still  preserved  the  instinct  which  made  him  ask  ques- 
tions. He  heard  that  the  foreign  ladies  had  driven  to 
Westbury,  and  afterwards  strolled  round  to  the  stables 
to  see  the  new  coachman.  He  learned  from  him  about  the 
strange  lady  who  entered  the  carriage  on  the  moor.  The 
man  described  her  face,  for  it  seemed  that  she  had  lifted 
her  veil  for  a  moment  when  alighting  at  the  station.  Mor- 
ley took  all  this  in,  and  walked  home  jubilantly.  He 
knew  that  Anne  was  with  the  Princess  Karacsay. 

"If  these  were  the  old  days,"  he  said,  "I'd  wire  to  Lon- 
don to  have  the  house  of  those  Hungarian  women 
searched.  I  wonder  what  they  have  to  do  with  the  mat- 
ter? Humph!  Anne  killed  Daisy.  Is  it  worth  while  to 
try  and  trace  her?" 

This  speech  was  made  to  IMrs.  Morley,  and  the  pale 
woman  gave  a  decided  negative.  "I^t  poor  Anne  go, 
Oliver,"  she  said  beseechingly ;  "I  loved  her,  and  she  had 
much  good  in  her." 

"Still,  I'm  all  on  fire  to  follow  up  the  clue,"  said  Mor- 
ley. 

"You  promised  to  leave  the  detective  business  alone." 


2o6  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Quite  right ;  so  I  did,"  he  answered.  "Well,  I'll  do 
what  you  wish,  my  dear.  Anne  Denham  can  go  free  for 
me.  I  said  the  same  thing  to  Ware,  although  he  won't 
believe  me.  But  I  should  like  to  know  what  that  Prin- 
cess Karacsay  has  to  do  with  the  matter." 

He  worried  all  that  evening,  and  finally  went  to  see 
Franklin  about  the  matter.  But  he  got  scanty  satisfac- 
tion from  him.  Franklin  denied  that  Anne  had  ever  been 
in  his  house,  and  told  Morley  to  mind  his  own  business. 
If  the  ex-detective's  wife  had  not  been  present,  and  if 
this  conversation  had  not  taken  place  in  her  presence, 
Franklin  might  have  been  more  easy  to  deal  with.  But 
the  presence  of  a  third  party  shut  his  mouth.  So  Morley 
could  do  nothing,  and  made  no  attempt  to  do  an\thing. 

Had  Giles  known  of  this  it  might  have  set  his  mind  at 
rest,  for  he  could  not  get  out  of  his  head  that  he  was 
being  followed.  At  the  Liverpool  station  he  alighted 
about  ten  o'clock,  and  looked  everywhere  in  the  crowd 
to  see  if  he  was  being  observed.  But  his  fears  were  vain, 
for  he  could  distinguish  no  one  with  any  inquiring  look  on 
his  face,  or  note  any  person  dogging  his  footsteps.  He 
stepped  into  a  cab  and  ordered  the  man  to  drive  to  St. 
John's  Wood.  But  at  Baker  Street  he  alighted  and  dis- 
missed the  cab.  He  had  only  a  hand-bag  with  him,  and, 
carr>'ing  this,  he  took  the  underground  train  to  High 
Street,  Kensington.  When  he  arrived  there  he  drove  in 
another  cab  to  his  old  hotel,  "The  Guelph,"  opposite  the 
Park.  When  alone  in  his  bedroom  Giles  smoked  a  com- 
placent pipe,  "If  any  one  did  try  to  follow  me,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "he  must  have  missed  me  when  I  took  the 
underground  railway." 

It  was  close  on  half-past  eleven  when  he  ended  his 
wanderings,  too  late  to  call  at  the  Westminster  flat.  But 
Giles  thought  that  Olga  would  never  think  he  had  traced 


MANY  A  SLIP  'TWIXT  CUP  AND  LIP    207 

her  flight  with  Anne,  and  would  not  do  anything  till  the 
morrow,  probably  not  before  twelve  o'clock.  He  was 
up  early,  and  went  off  to  New  Scotland  Yard  to  see  Steel. 
He  did  not  intend  to  tell  him  about  Anne,  thinking  that 
the  detective  might  arrest  her  if  he  knew  of  her  where- 
abouts. But  he  desired  to  know  if  Steel  had  discovered 
anything  in  connection  with  the  Scarlet  Cross.  Also, 
since  Steel  knew  Olga  so  well,  he  might  be  able  to  ex- 
plain why  she  had  come  down  with  her  mother  to  Rick- 
well,  and  why  the  elder  Princess  had  called  on  Frank- 
lin. He  half  thought  that  Olga,  keeping  her  promise, 
had  brought  Anne  to  London  to  have  her  taken  in  charge 
by  Steel.  But  on  second  thoughts  he  fancied  that  Olga 
would  keep  Anne  as  a  hostage,  and  not  deliver  her  up 
if  he — Giles — agreed  to  become  her  husband.  Thus 
thinking  he  went  to  see  Steel. 

The  detective  was  within,  and  saw  Giles  at  once.  He 
looked  very  pleased  with  himself,  and  saluted  Ware  with 
a  triumphant  smile. 

"Well,  sir,"  he  said,  "I  have  found  out  an  astonishing 
lot  of  things." 

"About  the  murder?"  asked  Ware  apprehensively. 

"No."  Steel's  face  fell.  "That  is  still  a  mystery,  and 
I  expect  will  be  one  until  that  woman — I  mean  that  young 
lady — is  found." 

"Do  you  mean  Miss  Denham?"  demanded  Ware  stifily. 

"Yes.     Do  you  know  where  .she  is  ?" 

Giles  shook  his  head.  He  was  not  going  to  betray 
Anne  to  her  enemy,  as  Steel  in  his  detective  capacity  as- 
suredly was.  "I  wish  I  did,"  he  said.  "I  have  been  at 
Rickwell  trying  to  find  out  things.  I'll  tell  you  of  my 
discoveries  later.     Meantime " 

"You  want  to  hear  about  mine,"  cried  the  detective 
eagerly  and  full  of  his  subject.     "Well,  the  murder  can 


2o8  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

wait.  I'll  get  to  the  bottom  of  that,  Mr.  Ware.  But  I 
am  now  quite  of  your  opinion.  Miss  Denham  is  inno- 
cent.    This  man  Wilson  killed  the  girl." 

"I  knew  that  Walter  Franklin  was  guilty,"  cried  Ware. 

"I  said  Wilson,"  was  Steel's  reply. 

"I  forgot;  you  don't  know  about  Wilson  alias  Frank- 
lin.    I'll  tell  you  later.     Go  on,  Steel.     I'm  all  attention." 

"Oh!  So  his  real  name  is  Franklin.  I  never  knew 
that,"  said  Steel,  drawing  his  hand  down  his  chin.  "Well, 
Mr.  Ware,  I  have  been  to  all  the  ports  in  the  kingdom, 
and  I  have  learned  that  wherever  that  yacht — she's  a 
steam  yacht — The  Red  Cross  has  been,  burglaries  have 
been  committed.  At  last  I  managed  to  lay  my  hand  on 
a  member  of  the  gang,  and  made  him  speak  up." 

"What  gang?" 

"A  gang  of  burglars  headed  by  the  man  I  call  Wilson 
and  your  Franklin — the  Scarlet  Cross  Society.  They 
own  that  yacht,  and  steam  from  port  to  port  committing 
robberies.     A  splendid  idea,  and  Wilson's  own." 

Then  he  unfolded  to  the  astonished  Giles  a  long  career 
of  villany  on  the  part  of  the  said  Wilson.  The  young 
man  shuddered  as  the  vile  category  of  crime  was  un- 
rolled. It  was  horrible  that  such  a  wretch  as  Walter 
Franklin  should  be  the  father  of  Anne.  But  for  all  her 
parent's  vices,  Giles  never  swerved  from  the  determina- 
tion to  marry  the  girl.  He  was  not  one  of  those  who 
think  that  the  sins  of  the  father  should  be  visited  on  the 
child. 

"What  is  the  name  of  the  man  who  confessed  all  this?" 
asked  Giles. 

"Mark  Dane." 

Ware  started.  That  was  the  name  of  the  man  Anne 
had  mentioned  as  her  father's  secretary.  However,  he 
said  nothing,  and  when  Steel  requested  him  to  tell  all  he 


MANY  A  SLIP  'TWIXT  CUP  AND  LIP    209 

knew  about  Wilson,  he  related  everything  save  that  he 
was  Anne's  father.  Steel  listened  attentively,  chin  on 
hand.     When  Giles  finished  he  nodded. 

"I'll  go  down  and  see  this  brother,"  he  remarked.  *'If 
he  hates  the  man  whom  we  think  committed  the  crime 
so  much,  he  will  be  anxious  to  assist  us  in  securing  him. 
I  wonder  why  that  governess  helped  Wilson,  or  rather 
Walter  Franklin,  to  escape?  Of  course,  I  believe  that 
she  is  his  daughter.  Now  don't  look  so  angry,  Mr.  Ware. 
If  you  remember,  when  I  talked  with  you  at  the  Prin- 
cess Karacsay's  I  said  you  could  draw  your  own  infer- 
ences. That  is  what  I  meant."  Here  the  detective 
stopped  and  peered  into  Giles'  face.  "You  don't  appear 
to  be  so  surprised  as  I  thought  you  would  be." 

"Are  you  sure  that  Miss  Denham  is  Wilson's  daugh- 
ter?" 

"No,  I  am  not  yet  sure.  But  if  I  can  make  this  Mark 
Dane  speak  further,  I'll  be  certain.  He  knows  all  about 
the  matter.  Unfortunately  he  is  gone.  I  caught  him  at 
Bournemouth,  and  after  he  told  me  a  portion  of  the  truth 
he  managed  to  get  away.  It's  a  long  story  how  he  fooled 
me.  I'll  tell  it  to  you  another  time.  But  the  worst  of 
it  is,"  resumed  Steel  dolefully,  "that  Dane  will  warn 
Wilson  and  he  will  get  away.  All  the  same,  now  you 
have  told  me  Wilson  has  a  brother  I  may  be  able  to  find 
out  something  in  that  quarter.     The  brother  is  all  right  ?" 

"He  is  an  honest  man,  if  that  is  what  you  mean." 

"H'm !"  said  Steel  sceptically.  "I  don't  see  how  there 
can  be  any  honest  member  of  the  Franklin  family." 

"Do  you  include  Miss  Denham  ?"  asked  Giles  furiously. 

"Well,  sir,  she  sails  under  false  colors." 

"She  can  explain  that." 

"I  hope  she  will  be  able  to  when  I  catch  her.*' 


210  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Steel,  I  won't  stand  this!"  cried  Ware,  much  agi- 
tated. 

The  detective  thought  for  a  moment.  "See  here,  sir," 
he  remarked,  "we  won't  discuss  this  matter  until  I  have 
caught  Dane." 

"How  do  you  hope  to  catch  him  ?" 

"I  have  laid  a  trap  for  him  at  the  Princess  Karacsay's 
flat,"  said  Steel  quietly.  "Oh,  don't  look  so  astonished. 
This  Dane  was  one  of  the  attendants  at  some  concert 
where  the  Princess  sang.  He  fell  in  love  with  her,  and 
has  been  bothering  her  with  letters.  I  have  arranged 
that  he  shall  call  at  the  flat.     I'll  be  waiting  for  him." 

"It's  odd  that  the  Princess  should  know  about  this 
man,"  said  Ware. 

Steel  looked  at  him  queerly.  "It  is  odd,"  he  said; 
"and  to  my  mind  it  is  more  than  a  coincidence.  Princess 
Olga  is  a  clever  woman.  I  have  to  be  very  careful  with 
her." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  she  knows  anything?"  asked 
Giles. 

"I  am  sure  she  does.  I  believe  she  could  explain  the 
whole  business ;  but  I  can't  find  out  how  she  came  to  be 
connected  with  it.  Well,  Mr.  Ware,  I  must  be  off.  When 
I  see  Dane  and  get  the  truth  out  of  him,  I'll  see  you 
again.  I  hope,  for  your  sake,  that  Miss  Denham  is  not 
the  daughter  of  this  man,  but  from  a  few  words  let  drop 
by  Dane  I  fear  she  is.  At  all  events,  sir,  you  can  set 
your  mind  at  rest  about  her  being  guilty  of  murder.  She 
is  innocent.     The  father  did  it." 

Giles  departed,  much  comforted  by  this  statement.  He 
knew  well  enough  that  Anne  was  the  daughter  of  Wil- 
son, alias  Denham,  alias  Franklin,  and  he  shuddered  again 
to  think  of  his  pure,  good  Anne  being  mi.xed  up  with  a 
man  who  was  hand  and  glove  with  the  criminal  classes 


MANY  A  SLIP  'TWIXT  CUP  AND  LIP    211 

and  a  criminal  himself.  However,  he  put  this  matter 
out  of  his  mind  for  the  moment,  and  drove  to  the  West- 
minstei  flat.  If  Anne  was  there,  he  determined  to  take 
her  away  to  a  place  of  safety,  and  defy  Steel  and  Walter 
Franklin  to  do  their  worst. 

He  went  up  the  stairs,  and  was  told  that  jMademoiselle 
Olga  was  not  at  home.  He  was  about  to  inquire  after 
Anne,  when  the  elder  Princess,  looking  pale  and  anxious, 
appeared  at  the  door  of  the  drawing-room.  She  beck- 
oned him  in  and  shut  the  door. 

"Have  you  seen  Olga?"  she  inquired. 

"No,  Princess.     Is  she  not  with  you  ?" 

"She  is  not,"  wailed  the  woman,  throwing  herself  on 
the  couch.  "Late  last  night  she  went  out  with  Anne. 
A  summons  came — some  letter — and  Anne  had  to  go. 
Olga  insisted  on  accompanying  her.  They  said  they 
would  be  back  at  midnight ;  but  they  have  not  reappeared. 
I  am  distracted,  Mr.  Ware.  What  shall  I  do?  Where 
are  they?" 

"Who  was  the  letter  from  ?" 

"I  don't  know.     It  was  for  Anne,  and " 

"You  call  Miss  Denham  Anne,"  said  Giles  abruptly; 
"and  you  brought  her  here.     What  do  you  know  if  her?" 

"Everything,"  said  the  Princess,  sitting  up.  "In  spite 
of  Olga  I  must  tell  you  the  truth.  Anne  Denham  is  my 
daughter !" 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A   STORY   OF   THE   PAST 

THIS  communication  was  so  extraordinary  and  unex- 
pected that  Giles  thought  the  Princess  must  be  out 
of  her  mind.  But  although  overcome  with  emotion,  she 
was  sane  enough,  and  seeing  his  astonishment  repeated 
her  statement  that  Anne  Dcnham  was  her  daughter.  The 
young  man  sat  down  to  collect  his  thoughts. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  she  is  Mademoiselle  Olga's 
sister?" 

"Her  half-sister,"  corrected  the  Princess,  sobbing.  "I 
never  thought  I  should  find  her  again,  and  like  this.  It's 
too  dreadful !"  And  in  strange  contrast  to  her  usual  in- 
dolent demeanor,  she  wrung  her  hands. 

Giles  was  still  bewildered.  "And  you — were  you  the 
wife  of  Walter  Franklin  ?"  he  stammered  helplessly. 

"There  is  no  Walter  Franklin,"  replied  the  woman, 
drying  her  eyes  and  sittting  up.  "George  Franklin  is 
Anne's  father.     He  was  my  husband." 

"But  you  are  the  wife  of  Prince  Karacsay." 

"Certainly.  I  eloped  with  him  from  Kingstown  in 
Jamaica,  and  George  divorced  me.  I  afterwards  mar- 
ried the  Prince." 

"Then  the  man  at  the  Priory  is  your  first  husband?" 


A  STORY  OF  THE  PAST  213 

"No !"  cried  she  vigorously.  "He  is  not  George  Frank- 
lin." 

"He  calls  himself  so,"  muttered  Ware,  quite  puzzled. 

"Only  to  keep  hold  of  the  money  left  by  IMr.  Powell," 
explained  the  Princess.  "He  is  really  Alfred  Denham, 
who  caused  all  the  miser}-  of  my  married  life  with 
George." 

"Anne's  father." 

"No.  I  tell  you  he  is  not  Anne's  father.  George  was 
the  father  of  Anne.  He  is  dead.  He  died  shortly  after 
divorcing  me." 

Giles  felt  his  heart  swell  with  gratitude  to  learn  that 

Anne  was  not  connected  with Here  he  paused,  more 

bewildered  than  ever.  "I  don't  quite  understand,  Prin- 
cess," he  said,  trying  to  arrive  in  his  own  mind  at  some 
solution  of  this  complicated  mystery.  "Had  not  your 
husband  a  brother  called  Walter  ?" 

"No.     George  was  an  only  son." 

"Then  did  Alfred  Denham  have  a  brother  of  that 


name 


"No,  Don't  you  understand,  Mr.  Ware.  You  have 
been  deceived.  Denham,  who  calls  himself  by  my  hus- 
band's name  pretends  to  be  Anne's  father,  was  the  man 
who  went  down  to  Rickwell." 

"The  man  whom  Anne  helped  to  escape." 

"Yes.  Under  the  belief  that  he  is  her  father,  poor 
child." 

"Then  there  is  no  Walter  Franklin.  He  is  a  myth?" 
The  Princess  nodded. 

"Invented  to  throw  you  off  the  scent." 

"And  Denham,  who  calls  himself  George  Franklin, 
really  killed  Daisy  ?" 

"I  believe  he  did,"  declared  the  Princess  fiercely.    "That 


214  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

man  is  one  of  the  most  wicked  creatures  born.     He  is 
capable  of  any  crime." 

Ware  said  nothing.  His  brain  refused  to  take  in  the 
explanation.  That  he  should  have  been  so  deceived 
seemed  incredible,  yet  deceived  he  had  been.  All  this  time 
he  had  been  following  a  phantom,  while  the  real  person 
was  tricking  him  with  masterly  ingenuity.  "But  Anne 
told  me  herself  that  she  had  an  uncle  called  Walter,"  said 
he  suddenly. 

"Of  course !  To  save  the  man  she  believed  to  be  her 
father." 

"Wait !  Wait !  I  can't  grasp  it  yet."  Giles  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands  and  tried  to  think  the  matter  out. 

The  Princess  went  to  the  window  and  drew  aside  the 
curtain.  "I  see  nothing  of  Anne  and  Olga,"  she  mur- 
mured. "Where  can  they  have  got  to.  Oh,  am  I  to  lose 
her  after  all  ?"  She  paused  and  came  back  to  the  couch. 
"Mr.  Ware,"  she  said,  "I  will  tell  you  all  my  sad  stor>', 
and  then  you  can  judge  what  is  best  to  be  done." 

"That  is  best,"  said  Giles,  lifting  up  his  worn  face. 
"I  am  quite  in  the  dark  so  far.  The  thing  seems  to  be 
incredible." 

"Truth  is  stranger  than  fiction,"  said  the  Princess  quiet- 
ly. "That  is  a  truism,  but  no  other  saying  can  apply  to 
what  I  am  about  to  tell  you." 

"One  moment.   Princess.     Who  found  out  that  Den- 
ham  was  masquerading  as  your  late  husband?" 
I     "Olga  found  it  out.     I  don't  know  how.     She  refuses 
,to  tell  me." 

H     "And  she  asked  you  to  come  over  to  identify  the  man?" 

,;     "Yes.     That  was  why  I  went  with  her  to  Rickwell.     I 

called  on  Dcnham,  and  saw  that  he  was  not  my  husband." 

"I  see !"  murmured  Giles,  remembering  what  the  gar- 
^iiener  had  told  Mrs.  Parry  about  the  pallor  of  the  so- 


A  STORY  OF  THE  PAST  215 

called  Franklin  when  he  came  to  the  door  with  his  vis- 
itor. "I  am  beginning  to  gather  some  information  out 
of  all  this.     But  if  you  will  tell  me  the  whole  story " 

"At  once,  Mr.  Ware.  I  want  your  advice  and  assist- 
ance.    First  you  must  have  some  whiskey." 

"Not  in  the  morning,  thank  you." 

"You  must  have  it!"  she  replied,  ringing  the  bell. 
*'What  I  have  said  already  has  upset  you,  and  you  will 
require  all  your  courage  to  hear  the  rest." 

"Anne,"  said  Giles  anxiously. 

"My  poor  child.  I  fear  for  her  greatly.  No !  Don't 
ask  me  more.     So  long  as  Olga  is  with  her  I  hope  that  all 

will  be  well.    Otherwise "    She  made  a  quick  gesture 

to  silence  him,  for  the  servant  entered  to  receive  orders. 

So  Giles  was  provided  with  some  whiskey  and  water, 
which  the  Princess  made  him  drink  at  once.  She  had 
thrown  off  her  languor,  and  was  as  quick  in  her  move- 
ments as  he  usually  was  himself.  The  discovery  of  Den- 
ham's  masquerade,  the  doubts  about  Anne's  safety  had 
roused  her  from  her  indolence,  and  she  had  braced  her- 
self to  act.  A  more  wonderful  transformation  Giles  could 
scarcely  have  imagined.  Shortly  he  was  ordered  to 
smoke.  The  Princess  lighted  a  cigarette  herself,  and 
began  abruptly  to  tell  her  tale.  It  was  quite  worthy  of  a 
melodramatic  novelist. 

"I  was  bom  in  Jamaica,"  she  said,  speaking  slowly  and 
distinctly,  so  that  Giles  should  fully  understand..  "My 
father.  Colonel  Shaw,  had  retired  from  the  army.  Hav- 
ing been  stationed  at  Kingstown,  he  had  contracted  a 
love  for  the  island,  and  so  stopped  there.  He  went  into 
the  interior  and  bought  an  estate.  Shortly  afterwards  he 
married  my  mother.     She  was  a  quadroon." 

Giles  uttered  an  ejaculation.  He  remembered  that 
Anne  had  stated  she  had  negro  blood  in  her  veins,  and 


2i6  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

now  saw  why  Princess  Karacsay  and  her  daughter  had 
such  a  love  for  barbaric  coloring.  Also  he  guesstrd  that 
Olga's  fierce  temperament  was  the  outcome  of  her  Afri- 
can blood. 

The  Princess  nodded.  She  quite  understood  his  in- 
terruption. 

"You  can  see  the  negro  in  me,"  she  said  quietly.  "In 
Jamaica  that  was  considered  disgraceful,  but  in  Vienna 
no  one  knows  about  the  taint." 

"It  is  not  a  taint  in  England,  Princess — or  in  the  Old 
World." 

"No!  Perhaps  not.  But  then" — she  waved  her  deli- 
cate hand  impatiently — "there  is  no  need  to  discuss  that, 
i\Ir.  Ware.  Let  me  proceed  with  what  I  have  to  tell  you. 
When  I  was  eighteen  I  married  George  Franklin.  He 
was  a  young  planter  of  good  birth,  and  very  handsome 
in  looks." 

"Anything  like  Denham  ?"  asked  Ware  quickly. 

The  Princess  blew  a  contemptuous  cloud  of  smoke. 
"Not  in  the  least,  Mr.  Ware.  George  was  good-looking. 
What  Denham  is,  you  can  see  for  yourself.  Denham  was 
George's  foster-brother,"  she  explained. 

"And  his  evil  genius,"  added  Giles.  "I  am  beginning 
to  understand." 

The  Princess  flushed  crimson,  and  her  whole  body 
trembled  with  passion.  "He  mined  my  life,"  she  cried, 
trying  to  restrain  her  emotion.  "If  I  could  see  him 
hanged,  I  should  be  pleased.  But  such  a  death  would 
fall  far  short  of  the  punishment  he  deserves." 

"Has  Denham  negro  blood  in  him  ?" 

"Yes.  He  is  a  degree  nearer  the  negro  than  I  am. 
George  was  a  native  of  Jamaica,  and  very  rich.  When 
his  mother  died  he  was  quite  a  baby,  and  Denham's 
mother  nursed  him.    Thus  he  became  Denham's  foster- 


A  STORY  OF  THE  PAST  217 

brother,  and  the  two  boys  grew  up  together.  Powell 
tried  all  he  could  to  neutralize  the  bad  influence  of  Den- 
ham,  but  it  was  useless.  George  was  quite  under  Den- 
ham's  thumb." 

"Powell!  The  man  who  left  the  money  to  Daisy? 
Was  he  in  Jamaica?" 

The  Princess  nodded.  "For  a  time,"  she  said,  "George 
was  at  an  English  public  school — Rugby,  I  fancy.  He 
met  Powell  there,  and  the  two  became  much  attached. 
There  was  also  another  boy  called  Kent." 

"Daisy's  father?" 

"Yes.  George,  Powell,  and  Kent  were  inseparable. 
They  were  called  the  Three  Musketeers  at  school.  After- 
wards George  lost  sight  of  Kent,  but  Powell  came  out  to 
Jamaica  to  stop  with  George.  That  was  before  and  after 
my  marriage.  Denham  was  ruining  my  husband  body 
and  soul,  and  in  pocket.  Powell  tried  to  remonstrate  with 
George,  but  it  was  no  use.  Denham  was  the  overseer, 
and  George  would  not  dismiss  him.  Then  Powell  re- 
turned to  England.  Afterwards  when  he  heard  from 
me  that  George  was  completely  ruined,  he  wrote  about 
the  money." 

"Did  he  say  he  would  leave  the  money  to  George  ?" 

"Not  exactly  that.  He  said  that  Kent  was  ruined 
also,  and  explained  that  if  he  could  make  a  fortune  he 
would  leave  it  equally  divided  between  George  and  Kent, 
as  he  did  not  intend  to  marry  himself." 

"But  he  did  not  leave  his  money  equally  divided,"  said 
Giles. 

"No.  But  at  that  time  Kent  was  not  married,  and 
Powell  had  not  gone  to  Australia  to  make  his  money. 
Whether  he  liked  Kent  better  than  George  I  don't  know, 
but,  as  you  are  aware,  he  left  the  money  first  to  Daisy — 


2i8  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

knowing  that  Kent  was  dead — and  afterwards,  should  she 
die,  to  George  and  his  descendants." 

"Then  the  money  which  Denhain  holds  as  Frankhn  is 
rightfully  Anne's?" 

"Yes.  Now  you  are  beginning  to  see.  But  don't  be 
in  too  much  of  a  hurry.  I  want  to  tell  you  how  my  elope- 
ment came  about." 

Ware  nodded,  and  composed  himself  to  listen.  The 
Princess  resumed. 

"I  was  happy  at  first  with  George.  I  really  was  in 
love  with  him,  and  for  two  years  we  were  devoted  to  one 
another.  Anne  was  born,  and  she  drew  us  still  closer 
together.  Then  Denham  chose  to  fall  in  love  with  me. 
I  repelled  him  with  scorn,  but  did  not  tell  my  husband, 
as  I  dreaded  lest  George,  who  had  a  fiery  temper,  should 
kill  the  man.  I  simply  kept  Denham  at  his  distance. 
He  vowed  to  be  revenged,  and  gradually  ruined  George. 
He  made  him  neglect  the  plantation,  and  spend  more 
money  than  he  could  afford.  He  induced  him  to  drink, 
and  then  George,  who  had  not  a  very  strong  will,  began 
to  run  after  other  women.  I  was  furious,  and  told  him 
about  Denham.  He  was  so  besotted  with  the  creature 
that  he  refused  to  listen  to  me.  Powell  tried  to  stop 
George's  downward  course,  but  without  result.  Then  he 
was  called  back  to  England,  and  I  was  left  to  battle  against 
my  enemy  alone.  My  father  and  mother  were  both  dead, 
and  I  could  do  nothing.  Denham  constantly  inflamed 
George  against  me.     Our  house  was  like  hell." 

Here  she  stopped  to  draw  a  long  breath  and  control 
her  emotion.  Giles  pitied  her  profoundly,  as  he  guessed 
how  she  had  suffered.  However,  he  did  not  interrupt 
her,  and  she  continued  in  a  few  moments. 

"Prince  Karacsay  came  to  the  island.  He  was  travel- 
ling for  pleasure,  and  in  his  own  yacht.     He  fell  in  love 


A  STORY  OF  THE  PAST  219 

with  me.  Seeing  how  miserable  I  was,  he  implored  me 
to  fly  with  him.  But  I  would  not.  I  had  lost  much  of 
my  love  for  George,  who,  under  the  bad  influence  of  Den- 
ham,  treated  me  so  cruelly.  But  there  was  my  child — 
my  little  Anne — to  consider.  I  declined  to  fly.  Our 
plantation  was  not  far  from  the  seashore.  In  a  creek  the 
Prince  had  anchored  his  yacht.  Denham  was  making  my 
husband  jealous,  and  my  life  became  unbearable.  Oh!" 
— she  threw  up  her  arms — "not  even  the  years  of  peace 
that  I  have  had  can  obliterate  the  memory  of  that  ter- 
rible time."    And  she  wept. 

Still,  Ware  did  not  interrupt,  thinking  it  best  that  she 
should  not  be  questioned  too  much.  With  a  great  effort 
she  controlled  herself,  and  resumed  her  pitiful  story. 

"One  night,"  she  went  on  in  a  low  voice,  "the  climax 
came.  The  Prince  had  been  to  dinner.  He  had  to  go, 
because  George  was  so  violent.  Denham  had  got  my 
husband  to  drink,  and  his  paroxyms  of  anger  became  ter- 
rible. The  Prince  wanted  to  stop  to  protect  me,  but  I 
asked  him  to  go.  It  was  a  rainy  night,  a  violent  thunder- 
storm was  going  on.  I  locked  myself  in  the  nursery,  to 
protect  myself  from  the  fury  of  George.  He  came  to 
the  door  and  broke  it  down."  She  paused,  and  her  voice 
leaped  an  octave.     "George  turned  me  out  into  the  rain." 

"Great  God!    Did  he  go  that  far?" 

She  was  on  her  feet  by  this  time  pacing  the  room. 

"He  turned  me  out  into  the  stormy  night.  I  fled  from 
his  fury,  drenched  with  rain.  At  the  gates  of  the  gar- 
dens round  the  house  I  met  with  the  Prince.  He  had 
been  hanging  round  the  place  fearful  for  my  life.  He 
implored  me  to  come  on  board  the  yacht  and  stop  the 
night.  I  was  almost  distracted  with  terror  and  anger. 
I  went."  She  paused  again.  "From  that  moment  I  was 
lost." 


220  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  MI. 

"It  was  not  your  fault,"  Giles  assured  her. 

"No;  it  was  not  my  husband's  fault  either,  but  the  fault 
of  that  wicked  wretch  Denham.  He  came  the  next  morn- 
ing, guessing  where  I  had  gone  in  my  distress.  He 
brought  a  note  from  George,  who  bade  me  go  with  my 
lover,  the  Prince.  It  was  a  lie.  The  Prince  was  no  lover 
of  mine  then.  I  demanded  to  see  my  child,  but  George 
refused.  It  was  all  Denham — Denham.  George  was  un- 
der the  thumb  of  the  wretch.  The  Prince  behaved  like 
an  honorable  gentleman,  and  spoke  up  for  me.  But  it 
was  all  of  no  use.  George  was  determined  to  have  a 
divorce." 

"You  mean  Denham  was  determined  to  have  one,"  cor- 
rected Giles. 

"Yes,  yes.  He  was  the  one  who  ruined  me.  Then  the 
Prince  said  he  would  make  me  his  wife  as  soon  as  the 
decree  was  pronounced.  I  agreed.  What  else  could  I 
do?  My  child  was  refused  to  me.  I  was  blamed  by 
every  one,  and  the  whole  island  was  against  me.  I  sailed 
for  Europe  in  Prince  Karacsay's  yacht.  A  few  months 
later  the  decree  was  pronounced,  and  he  made  me  his 
wife.  Since  then  I  have  been  happy — that  is  as  happy 
as  I  could  be,  knowing  that  my  child  was  lost." 

"Did  you  make  inquiries  about  her?" 

"Some  years  later  I  did.  Then  I  learned  that  George, 
with  the  child  and  Denham,  had  sailed  for  Europe.  The 
vessel  was  wrecked.  The  report  said  that  George  Frank- 
lin and  his  child  were  saved.  Denham's  name  was  g^ven 
as  one  who  was  drowned.  I  rejoiced  when  I  saw  that 
punishment  had  overtaken  my  enemy." 

"But  Denham  was  not  drowned." 

"No;  it  was  George  who  met  with  that  death.  Den- 
ham, to  get  what  little  money  remained,  took  the  name 
of  George  Franklin.     I  do  not  know  how  he  managed 


A  STORY  OF  THE  PAST  221 

to  deceive  the  people  of  the  ship ;  but  he  must  have  done 
so  in  some  way,  to  get  the  false  report  put  in  the  paper." 

"Did  Denham  not  tell  you  when  you  unmasked  him  at 
Rickwell?" 

"He  made  some  sort  of  explanation,  but  I  think  much 
of  it  was  very  false." 

"How  did  you  come  to  discover  him?" 

"Olga  did  so.  She  knew  a  part  of  my  story.  That 
was  why — as  perhaps  you  saw — she  was  always  uneasy 
when  I  touched  on  Jamaica." 

"Yes;  I  remember  that,  Princess.  Well,  I  must  get 
Mademoiselle  Olga  to  tell  me  how  she  discovered  all  this. 
But  on  what  terms  did  you  leave  Denham  ?" 

"I  told  him  that  I  would  give  him  a  month  to  make 
restitution  to  my  daughter  Anne,  and  then  if  he  did  not 
I  would  inform  the  police." 

"Did  he  agree?" 

"No;  the  wretch  defied  me.  He  told  me  that  Anne 
had  murdered  Daisy  Kent  out  of  jealousy,  and  said  that 
if  I  moved  a  finger  against  him  he  would  have  her  ar- 
rested." 

"He  could  not  do  that  without  harming  himself." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  Princess  wearily;  "he  is  so 
clever  that  he  seems  to  do  what  he  likes.  I  have  taken 
no  steps,  because  I  wished  to  get  some  advice  as  to  how 
I  should  act  under  the  circumstances.  For  this  reason  I 
tell  you." 

"I  will  do  my  best,  Princess.  But  how  was  it  Anne 
came  with  you?" 

"Olga  managed  that.  She  knew  Anne  was  at  the  Pri- 
ory. I  don't  know  how.  Olga  knows  much.  I  wish  she 
and  Anne  would  come  back  again.  I  hope  nothing  has 
happened." 

Even  as  she  spoke  the  door  opened,  and  Olga  entered 


222  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

the  room  looking  haggard  and  worn  out.     ".Anne!"  cried 
her  mother.     "Where  is  Anne?'' 

"Lost !"  replied  Olga,  dropping  exhausted  into  a  chair, 
"lost!" 


CHAPTER  XXII 
olga's  evidence 

GILES  saw  in  the  girl  almost  as  great  a  change  as 
that  which  had  taken  place  in  her  mother.  For- 
merly haughty  and  self-possessed,  she  was  now  quite  ex- 
hausted and  broken  down.  Her  dress  was  muddy  and 
wet  and  in  disorder.  She  had  a  grey  face  and  red  eyes. 
Huddled  up  in  the  chair,  she  looked  a  pitiable  object — 
the  ruin  of  what  was  once  a  beautiful  woman. 

"Anne  lost?"  cried  the  Princess,  clutching  at  a  chair 
to  steady  herself.     "Olga,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

Olga  did  not  answer.  She  closed  her  eyes  and  let  her 
umbrella  fall  with  a  crash.  Giles  saw  that  the  girl  was 
quite  worn  out.  Hastily  filling  a  glass  with  undiluted 
whiskey,  he  held  it  to  her  lips,  and  made  her  drink  the 
whole  of  it.  Shortly  the  ardent  spirit  did  its  work.  She 
sat  up  and  began  to  talk  in  a  stronger  tone ;  but  the  ex- 
citement was  artificial,  and  would  die  away  soon.  Prin- 
cess Karacsay  saw  this,  and  urged  her  daughter  to  tell 
her  story  quickly  before  she  collapsed,  so  that  the  police 
might  be  sent  in  search  of  Anne. 

"The  police  will  never  find  her,"  said  Olga,  with  an 
eflfort.  "She  is  with  Mark  Dane.  He  has  taken  her 
away." 

"Dane?"  echoed  Giles.     "Denham's  secretary?" 


224  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

Olga  looked  at  him  with  an  inquiring  air.  "How  much 
do  you  know  ?"  she  asked,  bracing  herself  up. 

"As  much  as  your  mother  could  tell  me.  I  know  that 
Anne  is  your  half-sister,  and " 

"Yes."  Olga  tried  to  rise,  but  sank  back  again.  "She 
is  my  sister,  my  dear  sister,  and  I  love  her  with  all  the 
strength  of  my  nature." 

"Ah,"  said  Ware  sadly,  "why  did  you  not  talk  like  that 
when  last  we  met,  mademoiselle?" 

Olga  passed  her  hand  across  her  forehead.  "I  was 
mad,  I  think.  But  that  is  all  over.  You  need  have  no 
fear  now,  Mr.  Ware.  My  passion  for  you  has  spent  it- 
self." 

"Olga!''  cried  the  Princess,  scandalized,  "you  rave!" 

"No,"  answered  her  daughter;  "I  did  last  time  Mr. 
Ware  and  I  were  together,  but  now  I  talk  sense.  Did 
he  not  tell  ?" 

"I  told  nothing,"  interposed  Giles  quickly;  "and  you 
had  better  relate  when  and  where  you  left  Anne,  so  that 
we  can  find  her." 

"I'll  do  all  in  my  power  to  save  her  and  bring  her  back 
to  you,  Mr.  Ware.  I  was  mad  to  talk  and  act  as  I  did ; 
but  I  have  been  punished  by  the  loss  of  Anne." 

"Olga!"  cried  the  Princess  in  desperation,  "for 
Heaven's  sake  speak  reasonably !  Why  did  you  go  out 
with  Anne  last  night  ?" 

"There  was  a  note  for  Anne  from  Mark  Dane,  asking 
her  to  meet  him  near  the  Abbey.  She  wanted  to  see  him, 
as  he  vanished  after  the  supposed  death  of  her  father." 

"Of  Alfred  Denham,"  interrupted  the  Princess  angrily; 
"I  will  not  have  that  man  called  Anne's  father." 

"Of  Denham,"  said  Olga  obediently.  "Anne  wished 
to  leam  why  her  father  had  acted  in  so  peculiar  a  way. 
She  could  not  understand  his  behavior." 


OLGA'S  EVIDENCE  225 

"He  is  a  scoundrel  and  Anne  a  saint,"  said  the  Prin- 
cess bitterly.  "No  wonder  she  could  not  understand  him. 
She  thinks  he  is  a  good  man." 

''But  surely  she  knows  that  he  killed  Daisy  Kent,"  said 
Giles. 

"No,"  interposed  Olga ;  "she  denies  that  he  did.  I  ex- 
pect Denham  has  managed  to  deceive  her  in  some  way." 

"Why  did  you  not  undeceive  her,  mademoiselle?" 

"It  was  not  yet  time,"  responded  the  girl  quietly,  "but 
my  mother  told  her  a  portion  of  the  truth." 

"Yes.  I  said  that  she  was  my  child  and  that  Denham 
had  been  impersonating  her  father,  George  Franklin." 

"Then  she  can't  think  Denham  a  good  man  now,"  said 
Giles. 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  the  Princess  hopelessly.  "He 
has  such  power  over  her.  He  has  been  her  father  so- 
called  for  so  long  that  she  finds  it  difficult  to  believe  ill 
of  him." 

"To  learn  the  truth  was  why  she  insisted  on  seeing 
Dane,"  said  the  girl.  "Dane  knew  all  about  Denham,  and 
Anne  thought  she  would  make  him  confess  what  he 
knew." 

"And  did  he?" 

"That  I  can't  say.  I  went  out  with  Anne  and  we 
walked  to  the  appointed  spot.  IMark  Dane  was  waiting 
for  us." 

"Was  he  not  astonished  when  he  saw  you?" 

"Why  should  he  be  astonished?"  asked  Olga,  looking 
sharply  at  Ware. 

"Because  I  understand  from  Steel  that  he  troubled  you 
with  letters." 

"You  mean  that  Dane  was  in  love  with  me.  Yes.  He 
was  and  is." 

"Olga,"  cried  her  mother  again,  "do  behave  yourself." 


226  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Oh,  this  is  too  serious  to  be  a  mere  matter  of  behavior, 
mother.  1  have  made  use  of  Dane's  love  to  learn  all 
^out  the  society  of  the  Scarlet  Cross,  to  which  P'ranklin 
and  Dane  belong." 

"You  can  tell  us  that  later,"  said  the  Princess  impa- 
tiently.    "I  want  to  know  how  you  lost  Anne." 

"Well,  mother,  Dane  was  astonished  to  see  me.  He 
was  most  respectful,  and  said  that  he  had  a  message  for 
Anne  from  her  father " 

"From  Denham." 

"Yes.  Anne  mentioned  that  Denham  was  not  her 
father,  that  she  had  just  heard  the  truth,  and  Dane  was 
amazed.  He  hardly  knew  what  to  say,  but  ultimately 
stammered  out  some  sort  of  denial.  Anne  did  not  give 
him  time  to  speak.  She  said  that  she  would  see  Den- 
ham herself,  and  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  imposture.  Then 
she  asked  what  message  he  had  sent  in  the  character  of 
her  father.  Dane  refused  to  give  it  in  my  presence,  so  I 
walked  away  for  ten  minutes  and  left  them  together. 
Oh,  I  was  foolish,  I  know,"  she  added  in  reply  to  Ware's 
exclamation.  "But  I  thought  Mark  Dane  was  devoted 
to  me,  and  would  not  play  any  tricks  while  I  was  about. 
However,  I  did  leave  them  alone.  Anne  was  not  in  the 
least  afraid,  as  she  always  got  on  well  with  Dane  and 
trusted  him  entirely.  When  I  returned  in  ten  minutes, 
or  it  may  be  more,  they  were  gone." 

"Gone!"  echoed  the  Princess,  much  agitated. 
"Where?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  searched  everywhere.  I  went  round 
and  round  the  Abbey.  I  asked  a  policeman.  They  were 
nowhere  to  be  found.  I  fancied  that  they  went  across  to 
Westminster  Bridge,  which  they  could  easily  do  without 
my  seeing  them.  Anne  must  have  gone  of  her  own  ac- 
cord.    She  was  decoyed  by  Dane.     I  don't  know  why. 


OLGA'S  EVIDENCE  227 

no  more  than  I  know  what  inducement  he  held  out  to 
lure  her  away.  I  searched  for  hours.  Then  I  asked  a 
poHceman  about  the  matter.  He  told  me  to  go  to  Scot- 
land Yard.  I  went  and  inquired  for  Steel.  He  had  gone 
home.  I  have  been  walking  the  streets  all  night,"  said 
Olga,  with  a  haggard  look. 

"Oh,  great  heavens !"  moaned  the  Princess,  wringing 
her  hands ;  "what  would  your  father  say  if  he  heard  ?" 

"He  will  never  know  unless  you  tell  him,  mother.  I 
can  look  after  myself  easily.  No  one  molested  me.  I 
had  a  cup  of  coffee  at  a  stall  this  morning,  and  went  again 
to  see  Steel.     He  has  gone  out  of  town." 

"To  Rickwell?"  asked  Giles  eagerly;  then  he  remem- 
bered. "I  can't  understand.  I  called  to  see  Steel  at 
midday  before  I  came  here,  and  he  was  then  in  his  office." 

"Well,  the  official  I  spoke  to  about  nine  o'clock  told 
me  that  he  had  gone,  leaving  a  message  that  he  was  going 
out  of  town,  and  would  not  be  back  for  a  few  days." 

"I  wonder,"  began  Giles,  and  then  held  his  peace.  It 
occurred  to  him  that  Steel  intended  to  remain  until  he 
caught  Dane  in  the  trap  laid  for  him  in  this  very  flat. 
The  knowledge  that  the  man  had  decoyed  Anne  away  on 
the  previous  night  made  Giles  the  more  eager  that  he 
should  be  caught.  "You  will  see  Anne  yet,  Princess," 
he  said,  for  she  was  crying  bitterly. 

"Oh,  I  hope  so — I  hope  so.     But  where  is  she?" 

"We  must  ask  Dane  that." 

"How  are  we  to  see  Dane?"  demanded  Olga  wonder- 
ingly. 

Ware  explained  the  use  made  of  Olga's  name  by  Steel 
to  trap  the  man.  "I  expect  Steel  will  call  on  you  to-day 
to  tell  you  this,"  he  said  cheerfully. 

"I  am  not  sorry,  and  yet  I  am,"  said  Olga  thoughtfully. 
"I  know  much  about  Mark  Dane,  and  want  to  save  him 


228  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

from  his  bad  companions.  But  I  hope  Steel  won't  put 
him  in  gaol ;  that  would  ruin  him  entirely.  Besides,  Steel 
promised  not  to  have  him  arrested." 

"Promised  you?"  said  Ware,  astonished. 

"Yes.  It  was  I  who  told  him  to  look  after  Dane.  I 
know  much  about  this  matter."  Then  seeing  Giles  puz- 
zled, she  explained,  "When  I  first  met  Anne  I  saw  that 
she  was  like  myself  in  looks.  That  drew  us  together. 
You  see  it  yourself,  do  you  not,  Mr.  Ware?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Giles,  "and  I  often  wondered  at  it.  Now, 
however,  that  I  know  you  are  half-sisters,  I  wonder  no 
longer." 

Princess  Karacsay  nodded  her  approval,  and  Olga  con- 
tinued. 

"When  I  learned  that  Anne's  name  was  Denham  I 
rather  drew  back  from  her.  She  said  that  she  was  bom 
in  Jamaica,  and,  knowing  what  my  mother  had  said  about 
Denham,  I  thought  Anne  was  the  daughter  of  my  mother's 
enemy.     Afterwards  I  learned  the  truth  through  Dane." 

"How  did  you  meet  Dane?'' 

"Well,  I  knew  him  by  sight  long  before  we  spoke.  He 
used  to  dog  Anne  and  myself.  She  never  saw  him. 
When  I  described  his  looks  she  thought  he  might  be  her 
dead  father's  secretary — for  she  then  believed  her  father, 
Denham,  alias  Franklin,  was  dead.  She  wished  to  see 
him,  but  Dane  always  kept  out  of  her  sight.  Then  when 
Anne  went  to  Mrs.  Morlcy  he  still  continued  to  dog  me. 
He  got  to  know  a  concert  hall  where  I  frequently  sang 
and  hired  himself  there  as  an  attendant.  Then  he  took 
to  sending  me  love-letters.  I  was  angry  at  first.  After- 
wards I  wondered  if  he  know  anything  about  Denham, 
and  thought  he  must  if  he  really  was  the  secretary,  as 
Anne  said.     I  asked  him  to  come  here." 

"Olga,"  said  the  Princess,  "you  have  behaved  badly." 


OLGA'S  EVIDENCE  229 

**It  Has  all  turned  out  for  the  best,"  responded  Olga 
wearily.  She  was  beginning  to  show  signs  of  fatigue 
again,  but  still  kept  on  with  her  explanation  in  the  most 
plucky  manner.  '"Dane  came.  He  is  a  handsome  young 
fellow  and  was  well  dressed.  I  led  him  on  to  talk  about 
Anne.     He  told  me  more  than  he  should  have  done." 

"Told  you  what  ?" 

"That  Denham  had  come  in  for  money  and  was  living 
at  Rickwell.  As  I  knew  from  Anne  about  the  Powell 
money,  I  put  two  and  two  together  and  concluded  that 
Denham  was  pretending  to  be  Anne's  father;  that  she 
was  really  my  half-sister ;  and  that  her  pretended  father 
had  really  murdered  Daisy  Kent  to  get  the  money  as 
Frankliuo" 

"But  how  did  you  know  about  this?''  asked  Giles. 

"Why,"  replied  Olga,  much  surprised  at  his  density, 
"I  read  the  case  in  the  papers.  I  knew  that  Anne  could 
not  have  killed  Daisy,  and  having  settled  in  my  own  mind 
that  she  was  not  Denham's  daughter,  from  her  resem- 
blance to  me,  I  decided  that  Franklin,  who  lived  at  the 
Priory  and  had  the  money,  was  really  my  mother's  ene- 
my. I  sent  for  my  mother.  She  came  over,  went  down 
to  Rickwell,  and  recognized  Denham.     That  is  all." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  Giles  quickly,  "what  about  your 
telling  Steel  to  look  after  Dane  ?" 

"Well,  Mr.  Ware,  it  was  this  way,"  she  answered. 
"When  you  came  to  me  and  talked  about  the  Scarlet 
Cross,  I  remembered  that  Dane  had  such  a  one  on  his 
watch-chain." 

"The  badge  of  the  gang !" 

"Of  course,  but  I  did  not  know  that  until  later.  Then 
Steel  came  in,  if  you  remember,  and  hinted  that  the  red 
cross  was  the  symbol  of  such  a  gang.  Your  talk  of  the 
cross  being  found  in  the  church,  and  that  you  thought 


230  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  MI. 

it  ^vas  dropped  by  the  criminal  set  me  thinking.  I  sent 
for  Dane  again  and  tried  to  find  out  the  truth.  At  first 
he  refused,  saying  it  was  as  much  as  his  life  was  worth 
to  talk." 

"And  I  daresay  he  is  right,  mademoiselle.  Denham 
would  not  stick  at  a  second  murder.  By  the  way,  did 
you  know  he  was  Wilson  ?" 

"Only  when  Dane  confessed.  I  gradually  got  him  to 
be  confidential  to  me,  promising  that  he  would  not  get 
into  trouble.  He  was  so  deeply  in  love  with  me  that 
he  spoke  out  at  last." 

"My  dear  Olga!" 

"WMl,  mother,  I  knew  if  I  could  get  at  the  truth  I 
could  save  Anne." 

The  Princess  nodded,  well  pleased.  "I  am  glad  you 
thought  of  your  sister."  Olga  flushed  a  deep  red  and  her 
eyes  sought  those  of  Giles.  "It  was  not  my  sister  I 
thought  of,  but  of  myself,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone.  "You 
see,  mother,  I  fancied  that  I  might  get  something  if  I 
could  prove  the  innocence  of  Anne,  for  I " 

"Is  any  explanation  needed,  mademoiselle?"  said  Giles 
uneasily. 

She  paused  for  a  moment  and  looked  at  him  straightly. 
"No,"  she  said  at  length ;  "that  is  all  over.  I  think  no 
more  explanation  need  be  made.  But  with  regard  to 
Dane.  He  told  me  that  Denham  had  come  to  England 
to  see  about  the  money  left  to  Daisy  Kent.  He  disguised 
himself  as  Wilson  and  lodged  at  a  Mrs.  Benker's.  Then 
he  went  down  to  Rick  well,  and " 

"And  murdered  Daisy,"  interposed  Giles  eagerly. 

"So  I  said,  Mr.  Ware;  but  Dane,  who  seems  devoted 
in  a  way  to  Denham,  denies  that  he  struck  the  blow." 

"Does  he  know  w-ho  did  ?" 

"No.     He  says  Denham  doesn't  know  either." 


OLGA'S  EVIDENCE  231 

"Denham's  a  bigger  scoundrel  than  you  think,"  said 
Giles,  recalling  his  last  conversation  at  the  Priory.  "He 
accuses  Anne  of  murdering  the  girl." 

"He'll  have  to  prove  it,  then,"  said  Olga  coolly,  while 
her  mother  shrieked.  "I'll  be  able  to  save  Anne,  never 
fear.  Hov^ever,  Dane  told  me  that  the  red  cross  was 
the  badge  of  a  thieves'  gang.  Denham  had  a  yacht  called 
The  Red  Cross,  which  goes  from  one  port  to  another  to 
take  stolen  goods  on  board." 

"That's  what  Steel  says." 

"Of  course.  Dane  told  him  when  he  taxed  him  with 
it.  The  boy,  for  he  is  just  twenty-five,  told  me  every- 
thing." 

"And  you  told  Steel,"  said  Ware,  rather  reproachfully. 

"I  had  to  tell  Steel,  if  I  wished  to  save  Anne,"  retorted 
Olga;  "but  I  asked  him  to  do  nothing  to  imperil  the 
liberty  of  Mark  Dane." 

"Did  he  promise  that?" 

"Yes.  Dane  saw  him  in  Bournemouth.  I  told  him 
to  call  with  a  note,  which  I  gave  him.  Dane  did  not 
know  why  he  was  sent,  and  when  he  discovered  that  Steel 
was  a  detective,  he  became  afraid.  I  believe  he  told 
something,  but  he  afterwards  ran  away." 

"He  doesn't  trust  you  any  longer  perhaps,"  said  the 
Princess. 

"From  his  attitude  last  night  I  think  he  does,  although 
he  was  a  trifle  reproachful.  He  will  come  if  Steel  has 
written  a  letter  to  call  him  here  in  my  name.  Then  I 
daresay  he  will  be  able  to  explain  why  he  took  Anne 
away." 

"Will  he  do  so?" 

"Ah!  that  is  what  we  must  find  out."  Olga  paused, 
then  continued.     "I  wanted  Steel  to  learn  all  he  could 


232  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

from  Dane  about  Dcnham,  as  I  wish  to  see  tliat  man 
arrested." 

•'Nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure,"  cried  the 
Princess. 

"I  thought  of  that.  Denham  tried  to  ruin  your 
mother." 

"And  he  did — he  did !"  she  said  bitterly. 

*'He  tried,  or  rather  he  is  trying,  to  ruin  Anne  also," 
said  Olga.  "For  these  reasons  I  wish  Steel  to  find  evi- 
dence against  him,  so  that  he  may  be  arrested  and  made 
to  confess  his  wickedness.  Dane  is  the  one  who  can  tell 
most  about  him,  and  I  think  Dane  will,  for  since  Den- 
ham got  the  Powell  money  he  had  not  behaved  very  well." 

While  they  were  thus  talking  a  knock  came  to  the 
door.  The  servant  entered  with  a  card,  which  she  pre- 
sented on  a  salver  to  her  mistress.  Olga,  who  was  thor- 
oughly worn  out,  took  it  languidly,  then  suddenly  be- 
came excited.  "He  is  here!"  she  said.  "Mark  Dane  is 
here!" 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


MARK   DANE 


WHEN  Olga  announced  the  name  of  her  visitor,  the 
Princess  rose  to  leave  the  room.  She  explained 
that  she  did  not  think  it  was  in  keeping  with  the  dignity 
of  her  position  to  meet  every  shady  person  who  called, 
and  added  that  her  daughter  was  not  behaving  in  a  way 
worthy  of  her  name  and  princely  family.  When  she  de- 
parted Olga  looked  inquiringly  at  Ware.  He  swiftly 
interpreted  her  look. 

"I  shall  stop,"  he  said  promptly.  "I  am  only  too  anx- 
ious to  help  you." 

Olga  came  forward  and  took  his  hand.  "And  you 
forgive  me?"  she  asked. 

"There  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  he  answered,  shaking 
it  heartily.  "Let  us  seek  for  Anne  together.  I  dare- 
say Dane  will  be  able  to  tell  us  where  she  is.  I  leave  you 
to  manage  him." 

The  girl  nodded  and  touched  the  bell.  Shortly  the 
maid  showed  in  a  slim  young  fellow  of  a  somewhat 
effeminate  type.  He  was  clean-shaven  and  wonderfully 
pale,  with  large  dark  eyes  and  curly  black  hair,  worn 
rather  long.  He  was  dressed  in  a  grey  suit  and  wore  a 
red  scarf  tied  loosely  in  a  bow.     There  was  something 


234  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

foreign  in  his  looks  and  dress.  At  the  first  sight  one 
would  have  taken  him  for  an  Italian,  but  when  he  spoke 
it  was  apparent  that  he  was  an  Englishman. 

"Princess!"  he  said  effusively,  when  he  entered.  Then 
catching  sight  of  Giles  in  the  background,  he  stopped 
short  with  a  scared  look. 

"This  is  a  friend  of  mine,  Mark,"  said  Olga,  coming 
forward.     "He  knows  all  that  there  is  to  be  known." 

"Oh !  And  you  promised  not  to  say  a  word,"  said 
Dane  reproachfully. 

She  shook  her  head.  "I  promised  to  save  you  from 
being  arrested,  and  I  shall  fulfil  my  promise.  Why  have 
you  come  here?" 

Dane  fumbled  in  his  pocket.  "Your  letter,"  he  said, 
handing  it  to  her. 

Olga  took  it,  glanced  at  it,  and  finally  passed  it  to  Ware. 

'T  did  not  write  that  letter,"  she  said  quietly.  "Steel 
the  detective  sent  it,  so  as  to  bring  you  here.  He  wishes 
to  resume  the  conversation  you  left  unfinished  at  Bourne- 
mouth." 

"It's  a  trap!"  cried  Dane  violently,  and  swung  round  to 
the  door.  But  there  was  no  chance  of  escape  in  that  di- 
rection. He  opened  it  to  find  Steel  standing  without. 
The  detective  stepped  into  the  room  and  locked  the  door. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "we  can  have  some  conversation. 
Princess,  I  apologize  for  having  used  your  name  unau- 
thorized, but  it  was  the  only  way  to  bring  this  young  man 
into  my  net." 

"Into  a  net !"  said  Dane,  letting  fall  his  soft  hat,  "You 
intend  to  have  me  arrested !"  His  hand  went  round  to 
the  back  of  his  waist.  In  a  moment  Steel  had  flung  him- 
self forw-ard,  and  after  a  short  struggle  disarmed  him. 
The  knife  that  the  detective  had  secured  was  an  ugly- 
looking  weapon. 


MARK  DANE  235 

"You  are  more  Italian  than  the  Italians,"  he  said,  slip- 
ping the  knife  into  his  pocket ;  "but  you  are  not  a  gentle- 
man to  frighten  the  lady." 

"I  am  not  frightened,"  said  Olga  promptly;  "but  I 
am  very  tired.  I  shall  retire  and  leave  you  two  gentle- 
men to  deal  with  Mark." 

Dane  sprang  forward  and  caught  her  dress.  He 
looked  terrified.  "Do  not  leave  me,"  he  entreated.  "You 
know  that  I  love  you,  and  that  for  your  sake  I  have  be- 
trayed a  man  who  has  done  much  for  me.  You  prom- 
ised to  help  me." 

"I  shall  do  so,"  she  answered,  returning  to  her  seat. 
"I  shall  see  that  you  are  not  arrested,  and " 

"Pardon  me,  Princess,  it  may  be  necessary  to " 

"Mr.  Steel,  this  man  shall  not  be  arrested,"  she  said, 
stamping  her  foot. 

"If  I  am,"  cried  Dane  resolutely,  "I  shall  say  nothing. 
Only  to  save  myself  will  I  speak." 

Ware  addressed  a  few  hurried  words  to  the  detective, 
who  nodded  reluctantly.  It  was  Giles  who  spoke.  "I 
promise  that  you  shall  not  be  put  in  gaol,  Dane,"  he  said, 
"but  you  must  tell  the  truth." 

"If  I  do  so  I  am  in  danger  of  my  life." 

"Then  it  is  not  gratitude  that  keeps  you  silent?" 

"Gratitude !"  said  Dane,  flinging  back  his  head,  "what 
have  I  to  be  grateful  for?     Mr.  Franklin " 

"You  mean  Denham,"  interposed  Olga  quickly. 

"Denham !"  echoed  Steel,  "that  is  the  father  of  the  gov- 
erness." 

"No,"  said  Giles,  "Anne's  father  is  dead.  This  man 
Denham  pretended  to  play  the  part,  and  she  has  only 
lately  been  undeceived.  Also,  Mr.  Steel,  you  must  know 
that  there  is  no  Walter  Franklin.     The  man  at  the  Pri- 


236  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

ory  is  the  scoundrel  you  know  as  Wilson,  the  head  of  the 
Scarlet  Cross  Society  and  the  murderer  of  Miss  Kent." 

"Not  that  last,"  interposed  Dane,  while  Steel  dropped 
into  a  seat  transfixed  with  astonishment.  "Denham  did 
not  kill  her.  He  does  not  know  who  did.  He  told  me 
so." 

"He  would  tell  you  anything  to  save  himself,"  said 
Olga. 

"No,"  replied  Dane,  "he  tells  me  all  his  secrets.  At 
one  time  I  should  have  died  before  I  revealed  them,  but 
Denham  has  treated  me  cruelly.  I  owe  him  no  gratitude. 
For  years  I  slaved  for  him.  I  did  all  that  a  man  could 
do  for  his  sake.  What  reward  have  I  got?  He  has 
beaten  me  like  a  dog.  He  has  left  me  to  starve.  He 
has  delivered  me  up  to  those  members  of  our  society  who 
hate  me.     Since  he  came  in  for  this  money " 

"Wrongfully,"  put  in  Giles. 

"As  you  say,  sir — wrongfully.  But  since  he  became 
George  Franklin  and  a  wealthy  man,  he  told  me  plainly 
that  he  washed  his  hands  of  me.  He  gave  me  a  small 
sum,  and  sent  me  to  America,  promising  an  annuity.  It 
was  not  paid.  I  wrote — I  threatened.  He  laughed  at 
me.  So  I  have  come  back  from  America  to  punish  him." 
He  turned  to  Olga  and  continued  vehemently,  "Do  you 
think  that  I  would  have  told  you  what  I  did,  Princess, 
had  I  not  hated  the  man?  No.  Not  even  for  the  love 
I  bear  you  would  I  have  done  that.  You  sent  me  to 
Mr.  Steel  at  Bournemouth.  I  knew  that  he  was  a  de- 
tective, and  went  prepared  to  tell  all  about  Denham's 
w'ickedncss,  even  although  I  incriminated  myself." 

"But  you  did  not  do  so,"  said  Steel  dryly;  "you  ran 
away." 

"And  why  ?  Because  you  mentioned  that  you  suspect- 
ed Miss  Denham  of  a  crime.     I  held  my  tongue  until  I 


MARK  DANE  237 

could  see  some  chance  of  proving  her  innocence.  Had 
I  told  you  all  I  knew  then  you  would  have  had  her  ar- 
rested, and  let  her  know  the  shame  of  the  man — her 
father." 

"He  is  not  her  father,"  said  Olga  again. 

"I  know  nothing  about  that,"  replied  Dane,  sitting 
down;  "he  always  said  that  he  was  her  father,  and  I  had 
no  reason  to  believe  otherwise.  But  I  am  glad  to  hear 
that  he  is  not.  She  is  too  good  and  pure  to  be  the  daugh- 
ter of  such  a  man.  I  have  known  her  for  years.  She  is 
an  angel.  She  nursed  me  through  an  illness.  I  would 
do  anything  to  prove  my  gratitude  for  her  sake.  I  held 
my  hand  from  harming  Denham  because  I  thought  he 
was  her  father,  and " 

"You  need  do  so  no  longer,"  cried  Ware,  whose  face 
was  bright  when  he  heard  this  praise  of  Anne;  "she  is 
the  daughter  of  George  Franklin,  of  Jamaica.  Denham 
assumed  the  name  to  get  the  Powell  money." 

"Then,"  cried  Dane,  flinging  wide  his  arms  in  a  most 
dramatic  manner,  "all  I  know  you  shall  know.  I  turn 
King's  evidence." 

"The  best  way  to  save  your  own  skin,"  said  Steel  dry- 
1}^ ;  "you  are  an  Irishman,  are  you  not  ?" 

Dane  nodded.     "Born  in  New  York,"  said  he. 

"Humph !"  murmured  Steel,  but  so  low  that  only  Giles 
heard  him,  "all  the  better.  You  would  betray  your  own 
mother  if  it  suited  you." 

Meanwhile  Olga  was  speaking  to  the  man.  "The  first 
thing  you  have  to  confess,"  she  said,  "is  about  Miss  Den- 
ham.    Where  is  she?" 

"With  Mr.  Morley." 

Giles  uttered  an  exclamation.  "What  has  he  got  to  do 
with  her?" 


238  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"I  don't  know.     He  canic  up  to  town  yesterday  even- 
ly™ " 
mg. 

"About  nine  or  ten  ?''  asked  Giles  quickly.  He  remem- 
bered his  feeling  of  being  watched  at  the  Liverpool  Street 
Station. 

"Yes,"  assented  Dane,  "he  came  up  to  see  me.  He 
said  that  he  had  a  message  for  Miss  Denham  from  her 
father.  Of  course  I  thought  then  that  Denham  was 
really  her  father.  I  asked  Morley  why  he  did  not  de- 
liver the  message  himself,  for  he  knew  that  Miss  Den- 
ham had  come  to  town  with  the  Princess  Karacsay." 

"How  the  deuce  did  he  know  that  ?"  wondered  Giles. 

"Well,  you  see,  sir,  Mr.  Morley  was  a  detective  at  one 
time,  and  he  always  finds  out  what  he  desires." 

"True  enough,"  put  in  Steel,  "Joe  Bart  is  very  clever." 

"He  appears  to  have  been  extremely  so  in  this  case," 
said  Giles  dryly. 

"Morley  told  me,"  continued  Mark,  "that  Miss  Denham 
knew  he  suspected  her  of  the  murder,  and  she  would  not 
let  him  see  her.  If  she  knew  he  had  come  to  look  her 
up  that  she  would  run  away  thinking  he  came  to  have 
her  arrested.  He  asked  me  to  tell  her  to  come  to  a  ren- 
dezvous near  the  Abbey  without  mentioning  his  name. 
I  thought  this  was  reasonable  enough,  and  wrote  a  letter." 

"And  I  went  with  Anne,"  said  Olga.  "Where  did  you 
go.'' 

"When  you  left  us  I  told  her  that  Morley  had  a  mes- 
sage from  her  father.  She  said  nothing  to  me  denying 
the  relationship,  but  she  was  afraid  of  Morley.  I  told 
her  that  he  had  promised  not  to  do  her  any  hami.  She 
was  still  doubtful.  Then  IMorley  appeared.  He  had 
been  close  at  hand,  and  he  explained  that  Denham  was 
very  ill.  He  wislied  to  see  Miss  Denham  and  make  repa* 
ration  for  his  wickedness.     There  was  no  time  to  be  lost. 


MARK  DANE  239 

Moiley  said,  and  he  asked  her  to  come  at  once.  She 
hesitated  for  a  time,  and  then  went  with  Morley.  She 
told  me  to  wait  till  the  Princess  Olga  came  back  and  tell 
her  this." 

"Why  did  you  not?" 

"Because  Morley  whispered  that  I  was  not  to  do  so. 
I  went  away  in  another  direction." 

"Then  why  do  you  tell  now?"  asked  Ware  bluntly. 

"I  wish  to  be  revenged  on  Denham,"  said  Dane  fiercely. 
"He  treated  me  like  a  dog,  and  he  shall  be  bitten  by  me. 
Curse  him!" 

Olga  walked  to  the  door.  "I  shall  go  now,"  she  said, 
seeing  that  Dane  was  becoming  excited  and  fearing  a 
scene.  "You  can  tell  Mr.  Steel  and  Mr.  Ware  every- 
thing, Mark.  When  Denham  is  caught  and  Anne  is  free, 
you  shall  come  to  Vienna  with  me.  My  father  shall  take 
you  into  his  service,"  and  with  this  she  held  out  her  hand 
to  him  in  a  regal  manner.  Dane  kissed  it  as  though  it 
had  been  the  hand  of  a  queen,  and  when  she  was  out  of 
the  room,  turned  to  the  two  men  with  a  shining  face. 

"I  am  ready  to  tell  you  everything,"  he  said. 

"And  betray  those  vvho  have  done  you  a  kindness," 
muttered  Steel.  "You  would  not  be  an  Irish-American 
if  you  didn't.     I  know  the  type." 

Quite  unaware  of  this  uncomplimentar\^  speech,  Dane 
glanced  into  a  near  mirror  and  ran  his  slim  hand  through 
his  hair.  He  cast  such  a  complacent  look  at  his  reflec- 
tion that  Giles  could  not  forbear  a  smile.  The  man  was 
a  compound  of  treachery,  courage,  and  vanity.  He  had 
some  virtues  and  not  a  few  vices,  and  was  one  of  those 
irresponsible  creatures  who  develop  into  Anarchists.  But 
that  the  Scarlet  Cross  Society  had  attracted  his  talents 
in  the  direction  of  a  kind  of  coast  piracy,  he  would  with- 
out doubt  have  been  employed  in  blowing  up  kings  or 


240  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

public  buildings.  Giles  thought  with  a  grim  smile  that 
if  Olga  took  this  creature  to  Austria,  Prince  Karacsay 
would  have  some  work  to  keep  him  in  order.  Dane  was 
not  the  man  to  settle  to  a  dull,  respectable  existence  or 
to  earn  his  bread  without  a  little  excitement.  A  danger- 
ous man,  and  the  more  dangerous  from  his  enormous 
vanity  and  utter  want  of  moral  principle. 

Having  made  Steel  promise  not  to  arrest  him,  nor  to 
make  any  use  of  his  revelations  to  endanger  his  own  lib- 
erty, Dane  cheerfully  proceeded  to  betray  those  he  had 
sworn  secrecy  to.  Wicked  as  was  the  gang,  and  evil  as 
was  the  purpose  of  its  formation,  Giles  could  not  help 
feeling  a  contempt  for  the  traitor.  Tliere  should  be 
honor  amongst  thieves,  thought  Ware.  But  Dane  did  not 
believe  in  the  proverb,  and  explained  himself  quite  com- 
placently. 

"I  met  Denham — as  he  usually  called  himself  many 
years  ago  in  Italy — at  Milan,"  said  Dane ;  "he  had  a  house 
there.  His  daughter — let  us  call  Miss  Anne  his  daugh- 
ter, although  I  am  glad  to  hear  she  is  not — lived  with 
him.  She  was  then  about  fifteen  and  was  at  school  at  a 
convent.  She  and  I  got  on  very  well.  I  adored  her  for 
her  beauty  and  kindness  of  heart.  I  was  starving  for 
want  of  money,  as  my  remittances  had  not  arrived  from 
America.  Denham  took  me  in.  I  made  myself  useful, 
so  there  was  no  charity  about  the  matter." 

"Still,  he  took  you  in,"  suggested  Giles,  "that  was 
kind." 

"A  kindness  to  himself,"  retorted  Dane.  "I  tell  you, 
sir,  Denham  wanted  what  he  called  a  secretary  and  what 
I  called  a  tool.  He  found  such  a  one  in  me.  I  don't  deny 
that  I  did  all  his  dirty  work,  but  I  had  some  feeling  of 
gratitude  because  he  rescued  me  from  starvation." 

"You  contradict  yourself,  Dane." 


MARK  DANE  241 

"No,  sir,  I  do  not,"  resplied  the  man,  with  true  Irish 
obstinacy,  "but  I'm  not  here  to  argue  about  my  conduct 
but  to  tell  you  facts." 

"Facts  we  wish  to  know,"  said  Steel,  taking  out  his 
note-book. 

"And  facts  I  tell,"  cried  Dane  vehemently,  then  re- 
sumed in  a  calmer  tone.  "Miss  Anne  was  all  day  at 
school.  Denham  never  let  her  know  what  a  devil  he 
was.  He  was  always  kind  to  her.  She  thought  him  a 
good  man.  Then  thinking  she  might  get  to  know  too 
much,  he  sent  her  to  a  convent  for  education  and  removed 
to  Florence.  There  he  called  himself  George  Franklin. 
He  told  me  that  he  expected  to  get  money  by  taking  that 
name." 

"Then  he  admitted  that  he  was  not  George  Franklin," 
said  Giles. 

"He  never  admitted  anything.  At  one  time  he  would 
say  that  his  real  name  was  George  Franklin,  at  another 
declare  he  was  really  Alfred  Denham.  But  he  had  so 
many  names  in  the  course  of  his  career,"  added  Dane. 
with  a  shrug,  "that  one  more  or  less  did  not  matter.  Be- 
sides, he  was  such  a  liar  that  I  never  believed  anything 
he  said." 

"Not  even  about  the  Powell  money?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  believed  that.  He  was  always  swearing 
at  some  girl  who  stood  between  him  and  the  money.  He 
mentioned  her  name  once.  I  was  with  him  in  England 
at  the  time,  and  set  to  work  to  find  out.  I  learned  all 
about  Miss  Kent  and  her  engagement  to  you,  Mr.  Ware." 

"And  you  know  all  about  the  Powell  money?" 

"Yes.  I  got  the  truth  out  of  Denham  at  last,  but  he 
never  told  Miss  Anne;  nor  did  he  ever  mention  Miss 
Kent's  name  in  her  presence;  nor  did  he  ever  say  to  me 
that  ]\Iiss  Anne  was  not  his  child.     I  never  thought  for 


242  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

a  moment  she  was  Franklin's  daughter.  And  for  the 
matter  of  that,"  added  Dane  carelessly,  "I  did  not  know 
if  he  was  really  Denham  or  Franklin  himself." 

"But  Miss  Anne  knew  nothing  of  all  this?"  asked  Giles. 

"Absolutely  nothing.  After  she  went  to  the  Milan 
convent,  Denham  would  not  let  her  come  back  to  him 
again.  He  was  afraid  lest  she  should  learn  what  he  was 
and  wished  to  preserve  her  good  opinion.  She  went  out 
as  a  governess,  and  only  rarely  came  home." 

"And  how  did  Denham  earn  his  living?" 

"Oh.  he  invented  the  Scarlet  Cross  Society.  He  bought 
a  yacht,  and  steamed  to  England  from  Genoa.  For  years 
we  put  in  at  different  ports,  robbed  houses  and  stowed 
the  goods  on  board.  Then  we  returned  to  Italy  and 
sold  them." 

"A  clever  dodge,"  murmured  Steel.  "So  that  is  why 
the  goods  were  never  traced." 

"That  is  why,"  said  Dane,  with  great  coolness.  "There 
was  a  Jew  who  took  a  lot  of  what  we  brought.  He  sold 
them  in  the  East.  But  it  is  too  long  a  story  to  tell  at 
present.  Denham  sometimes  went  to  England  and  some- 
times stopped  in  Florence.  When  he  was  away  I  stayed 
in  his  house  as  George  Franklin." 

"I  see.     He  wished  to  prove  an  alibi." 

"That's  it,"  said  Dane.  "He  intended  to  get  that 
money  sometime,  and  wished  that  when  inquiries  were 
made  about  George  Franklin  that  it  could  be  proved  he 
was  in  Florence  all  the  time." 

"And  then  when  Powell  did  die?" 

"Denham  knew  as  soon  as  possible.  He  had  a 
spy  in  Australia,  and  had  a  cablegram  sent  to  him.  Then 
he  arranged  a  pretended  death  to  get  rid  of  Miss  Anne. 
He  did  not  want  her  to  come  into  his  new  life.  He 
treated  her  well,  however,  for  he  left  her  money,  and  in- 


MARK  DANE  243 

tended  to  give  her  an  income  when  he  got  the  money. 
Another  man  was  buried  in  place  of  Denham  and  he  went 
to  England,  where  he  reappeared  as  George  Franklin  to 
claim  the  money." 

"As  Wilson,  you  mean,  to  kill  the  girl  who  stood  be- 
tween him  and  the  fortune,"  said  Steel,  raising  his  eyes. 

Dane  shook  his  head.  "I  know  nothing  of  that,"  he 
said.  "From  the  day  Denham  left  Florence  my  associa- 
tion with  him  has  severed.  I  saw  Miss  Anne,  told  her 
about  the  death  of  her  father,  and  then  went  to  America. 
Denham  di'd  not  pay  me  my  annuity,  and  I  came  back  to 
be  revenged.  I  saw  him,  but  he  denies  having  killed  the 
girl.  He  says  he  does  not  know  who  committed  the  mur- 
der. I  have  been  earning  my  bread  as  I  best  can,  waiting 
for  revenge." 

"But  you  had  only  to  threaten  to  make  all  this  public 
to  make  Denham  give  you  what  you  wished." 

"No."  Dane  looked  uneasy.  "The  fact  is  he  and 
some  one  else  have  a  hold  over  me.  I  need  not  tell  you 
what  it  is,  but  I  had  to  be  silent," 

"But  now  that  you  speak  he  has  still  the  hold." 

"Yes.  But  I  intend  to  ruin  myself  in  order  to  ruin 
him,"  cried  Dane  fiercely,  and  rose  to  his  feet.  "Well, 
gentlemen,  that  is  all  I  can  tell  you  at  present.  I  shall 
go." 

To  Giles'  surprise.  Steel  made  no  objection.  "You'll 
come  and  see  me  again?"  he  said,  opening  the  door  for 
Dane. 

"Assuredly,"  replied  that  young  gentleman,  and  de- 
parted. 

Giles  looked  amazed  at  this  permission  to  depart  be- 
ing given  by  the  detective.  "I  should  have  thought  it 
would  be  to  your  interest  to  keep  Dane  here,"  he  said. 
"He  has  not  told  us  everything  yet." 


244  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VIL 

"No,"  replied  Steel,  closing  his  book  with  a  snap,  "there 
is  one  very  interesting  detail  he  has  not  told  us.  But  the 
next  time  we  meet  I'll  get  it  out  of  him.  Here,"  he 
touched  the  book,  "there  is  enough  to  go  on  with.  I'll 
go  down  to  the  Priory  and  see  the  sick  Mr.  Denham." 

"I'll  come  also  and  see  Anne,"  said  Giles  eagerly.  "But 
Dane?" 

"He's  all  right.  I  have  a  couple  of  men  waiting  out- 
side. He  will  be  followed  everywhere.  I'll  be  able  to  lay 
hands  on  him  whenever  I  like.  Also  I  wish  to  see  where 
he  goes.  He  knows  the  various  hiding-places  of  this 
gang,  and  I  want  him  to  be  tracked  to  one  of  them." 
"H'm !  Don't  you  believe  his  story?" 
"Not  altogether.  He  evidently  hates  Denham  witfe  all 
the  virulent  hatred  of  a  malicious  character.  He's  a  devil, 
that  man  Dane.  I  should  not  like  to  incur  his  enmity. 
However,  we'll  make  use  of  him,  and  then  the  Princess 
can  take  him  to  Vienna  to  make  trouble  there,  as  he  as- 
suredly will." 

"What  is  the  especial  detail  you  want  to  learn  ?" 
"I  wish  him  to  explain  how  he  killed  Daisy  Kent." 

"He!    Dane!    Do  you  mean  to  say ?" 

"I  mean  to  say  that  Dane  is  the  murderer,"  said  Steel 
triumphantly.  "That  is  the  reason  Denman  and  this 
other  person  (whoever  he  may  be)  have  a  hold  over  him. 
If  he  ruins  Denham,  he  does  so  at  the  cost  of  being 
hanged." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


A  RAT  IN  A  CORNER 


THE  next  day  Giles  returned  to  Rickwell  with  Steel. 
The  detective  could  not  leave  town  before,  as  he 
had  to  procure  a  warrant  for  the  arrest  of  Alfred  Den- 
ham,  alias  Wilson,  alias  George  Franklin,  and  half  a  dozen 
other  names.  The  man  was  to  be  arrested  for  various 
robberies  connected  with  the  gang  of  thieves,  of  which  he 
was  the  head.  Search  was  being  made  by  the  police  for 
The  Red  Cross  yacht,  but  evidently  the  gang  had  taken 
alarm,  for  she  had  disappeared.  It  was  Steel's  opinion 
that  she  was  down  Plymouth  way,  sailing  round  the 
Devonshire  coast,  and  the  police  in  that  county  were  on 
the  lookout. 

"Once  I  can  get  that  ship,"  explained  Steel  to  Giles 
when  in  the  train,  "and  their  claws  will  be  cut.  They 
have  escaped  for  a  long  time,  so  ingenious  have  their 
methods  been.  But  I  have  accumulated  a  mass  of  evi- 
dence, and  have  several  names  known  to  the  police.  Yes, 
and  several  names  of  people  not  known.  There  are  about 
twenty  thieves,  professional  and  amateur,  connected  with 
this  matter.  It  is  a  big  affair.  But  I'll  get  the  yacht,  and 
then  Denham.  That  will  be  the  means  of  laying  bare  the 
whole  swindle." 


246  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"WTiich  ?    Denham  or  the  yacht  ?" 

"Each!  both!  If  the  pohce  can  seize  the  boat  unex- 
pectedly, some  incriminating  papers  are  sure  to  be  found 
on  board.  And  if  I  can  arrest  Denham,  I'll  soon  get 
the  truth  out  of  him." 

"I  don't  believe  he  can  tell  the  truth,  even  if  forced  to," 
said  Ware  grimly.  "You  have  no  idea  how  that  man 
has  cheated  me.  Steel,"  and  then  Giles  related  the  eaves- 
dropping of  himself  and  Morley. 

"I  don't  know  how  Denham  got  to  know,"  he  con- 
tinued, "but  the  tale  he  told  about  the  invented  brother 
was  his  own  history,  and  quite  deceived  me  and  Morley. 
Also  that  soliloquy  after  Mrs.  Benker  departed  was  a 
masterly  conception.  It  would  have  cheated  any  one,  let 
alone  me.  The  man  was  acting  for  the  benefit  of  myself 
and  Morley,  and  knew  we  were  listening.  What  a  clever 
scoundrel  I" 

"He's  been  a  little  too  clever  this  time,"  replied  Steel ; 
then  he  began  to  laugh,  but  refused  to  explain  why  he  did 
so,  save  in  a  general  way. 

"This  is  the  queerest  case  I  was  ever  in,"  he  said,  with 
a  chuckle ;  "you  don't  know  how  queer." 

"Well,  you  explain.  I  think  you  are  keeping  something 
from  me." 

"I  am,"  answered  Steel  readily.  "Tit  for  tat,  Mr. 
Ware.  You  did  a  little  business  on  your  own  account, 
and  said  nothing  to  me.    I  repay  the  compliment," 

"I  was  afraid  you  would  arrest  Miss  Denham." 

"You  mean  Miss  Franklin.  No,  I  should  not  have  done 
that.  My  investigations  into  this  thieving  case  have 
shown  me  that  she  is  perfectly  innocent.  She  knows 
nothing  about  Denham's  rascalities,  and  she  certainly  did 
not  commit  the  murder." 

"Are  vou  so  sure  that  Dane  is  the  culprit?"  asked  Giles. 


A  RAT  IN  A  CORNER  247 

"Yes,  I  am  sure.  He  was  at  Gravesend  on  board  that 
yacht,  and  when  the  so-called  Wilson  came  by  train  from 
London,  Dane  rode  over  from  Tilbury  on  a  motor-bicycle. 
They  met  on  that  night,  and  then  I  expect  Denham  in- 
duced Dane  to  murder  the  girl.  Afterwards  Dane  went 
back  to  Tilbury  as  he  came,  and  Denham  induced  his 
daughter  to  rescue  him  on  your  motor." 

"But  why  should  he  get  Anne  to  do  that?" 

"Because  he  saw  that  he  had  been  wrong  in  forcing 
Dane  to  do  what  he  did.  Dane  was  too  hasty.  He  should 
have  waited  till  Denham  was  a  safe  distance  away,  and 
then  have  executed  the  deed.  As  it  was  I  believe  that 
Denham  came  out  to  find  the  girl  dead,  and  knowing  he 
might  be  accused,  lost  his  head.  Otherwise  he  certainly 
would  not  have  betrayed  himself  to  Miss  Anne.  She, 
believing  him  to  be  her  father,  secured  the  car  and  saved 
him.  A  very  clever  woman,  Mr.  Ware.  I  hope  you 
will  ask  me  to  the  wedding." 

"How  do  you  know  it  will  ever  take  place?"  asked 
Giles  sadly. 

"Because  I  am  sure  we  shall  find  Miss  Anne  in  the 
Priory.  I  shall  arrest  Denham,  and  you  can  place  the 
lady  in  charge  of  some  friend,  or  send  her  up  to  her 
mother,  the  Princess  Karacsay.  By  the  way,  how  does 
she  come  to  be  the  mother?" 

"It's  a  long  story.  The  Princess  was  married  twice, 
first  to  George  Franklin,  of  Jamaica,  and  secondly  to 
Prince  Karacsay.  But  how  do  you  know  that  when  Mor- 
ley  arrived  with  Anne  that  Denham  did  not  take  fright  and 
fly?" 

"I  don't  think  Morley  would  let  him  do  that.  It  is 
probable  that  Miss  Anne  would  tell  him  what  she  knew, 
and  there  would  be  quite  enough  suspicion  excited  in 
Morley's  mind  to  induce  him  to  communicate  with  me." 


248  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

"Has  he  done  so?" 

"Well,  no,  he  hasn't.  But  then,  he's  a  detective  also, 
you  see,  and  his  professional  jealousy,  even  although  he 
has  retired,  may  induce  him  to  engineer  this  business 
himself.  But  he  shan't  have  the  credit  of  it  after  all  my 
work,"  cried  Steel  vehemently. 

Then  the  detective  began  to  turn  over  his  notes,  so  as 
to  prepare  for  the  coming  interview  with  Denham.  Giles 
gave  himself  up  to  his  own  thoughts,  and  rejoiced  that 
he  would  soon  see  Anne  again.  Her  character  would  be 
cleared,  and  then  she  would  become  his  wife.  Ware  was 
much  relieved  that  Olga  had  overcome  her  foolish  fancy 
for  him,  but  he  could  not  be  sure  if  her  cure  was  per- 
manent. WHien  she  excused  herself,  she  was  weak  and 
exhausted,  and  he  dreaded  lest  when  she  recovered  she 
should  begin  to  persecute  him  again.  But  after  all,  as 
he  reflected,  it  really  did  not  much  matter.  The  future 
of  Anne  was  taken  out  of  her  hands,  and  the  Princess 
Karacsay  would  not  permit  Olga  to  play  fast  and  loose 
with  Anne's  happiness. 

Giles  remembered  how  Olga  had  told  him  that  Anne 
was  at  school  at  Hampstead,  but  had  not  said  a  word 
about  the  convent  at  Milan.  No  doubt  Anne,  when  she 
first  came  to  England,  had  gone  for  a  few  finishing  les- 
sons to  the  Hampstead  school,  for  there  she  had  met 
Mrs.  Caims.  Still,  Olga  all  the  time  had  known  much 
more  of  Anne's  history  than  she  had  chosen  to  tell.  And 
if  the  Princess  Karacsay  had  not  been  so  candid,  W^are 
doubted  very  much  if  Olga  would  have  confessed  her 
relationship  with  Anne.  Yet  on  second  thouglit  he  fan- 
cied he  might  be  doing  the  Hungarian  sister  wrong.  In 
spite  of  her  proposed  treachery,  she  was  really  fond 
of  Anne,  and  perhaps  would  not  have  delivered  her  up 
to  the  police.    In  fact,  after  sh.e  brought  her  mother  over 


A  RAT  IN  A  CORNER  :i49 

to  unmask  Denham,  and  had  thus  made  her  aware  of 
Anne's  existence,  she  could  not  do  that  without  provoking 
her  mother's  undying  enmity.  On  the  whole,  Olga  was 
something  of  a  problem,  and  although  Giles  wished  to 
think  of  her  as  kindly  as  he  could,  he  determined  to  see 
as  little  of  her  as  was  possible  after  the  marriage.  He 
did  not  trust  her.  There  was  too  much  of  the  untamed 
tigeress  about  the  girl. 

When  the  train  arrived  at  Barnham,  a  trap  ordered  by 
Giles  v.-as  waiting  to  take  them  to  Rickwell.  On  the  plat- 
form Steel  was  met  by  a  local  policeman  who  seemed  to 
be  much  excited.  "I  have  acted  according  to  your  in- 
structions, sir,"  he  said,  touching  his  helmet. 

"Well,"  said  Steel  sharply  while  Giles  lingered  to  lis- 
ten— for  everything  the  detective  said  was  interesting  to 
him;  he  still  doubted  his  intentions  regarding  Anne — 
"did  Mr.  Morley  bring  down  Miss  Denham?" 

"No,  sir,"  was  the  unexpected  answer.  "Mr.  Morley 
has  not  come  back  since  he  went  up  to  town  two  nights 
ago.    He  went  by  the  nine  train.'' 

"The  same  train  as  I  went  by,"  interposed  Giles. 
"Are  you  sure?"  said  Steel,  and  Giles  fancied  he  saw 
a  smile  play  round  his  rather  full  lips. 

"Yes,  sir.  ]\Ir.  Morley  on  the  evening  he  went  away 
called  at  the  Priory  and  had  a  quarrel  with  Mr.  Franklin, 
sir.  They  came  to  blows,  sir,  and  Mr.  Franklin's  leg  is 
broken." 

"Then  he  has  not  left  Rickwell?" 
"No,  sir.     He's  laid  up  with  the  broken  leg  and  his 
daughter  is  nursing  him.    He's  awful  bad,  I've  been  told, 
sir,  by  Mrs.  Parry." 

Giles  could  not  help  laughing  at  the  introduction  of 
the  good  lady's  name.  She  seemed  to  be  mixed  up  with 
everything.    He  could  not  be  sorry  for  Denham,  as  he 


250  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  \^II. 

was  only  meating  with  his  deserts.     "But  Anne — where 
can  she  be?"  he  asked  Steel,  as  they  stepped  into  the  cart. 
"I  wish  I  knew,"  said  Steel  gloomily.    "1  had  an  idea 
that  Morley  was  playing  me  false." 

"Do  you  think  he  is  in  league  with  Denham  ?" 
"I  am  sure  of  it.  That  is  the  portion  of  the  case  of 
which  I  have  not  spoken  to  you.  You'll  hear  what  Den- 
ham says.  Now  that  Morley  has  left  him  in  the  lurch 
Denham  will  reveal  Morley's  connection  with  these  mat- 
ters. But  Morley  has  secured  a  hostage  in  the  person 
of  Miss  Anne.  He  has  taken  her  away  somewhere.  His 
wife  may  know  of  his  whereabouts.  After  we  have  seen 
Denham  we'll  speak  of  her." 

"Since  when  have  you  had  suspicions  of  Morley?" 
"Since  I  investigated  this  Scarlet  Cross  case.  I  have 
found  one  or  two  of  the  gang  who,  like  Dane,  are  willing 
to  turn  King's  evidence  to  save  themselves.  It  was  one  of 
them  called  Scott  who  told  me  of  Dane's  coming  on  the 
motor-bicycle  to  Rickwell.  But  later  on  you  shall  hear  all. 
Let  me  round  off  the  case  by  arresting  Denham."  Here 
Steel  scratched  his  head  and  smiled  ruefully.  "But  I  fear 
the  case  will  not  be  finished  till  Morley  is  caught,  and 
where  am  I  to  look  for  him?  I  wish  I  had  had  him 
watched.  He  has  been  too  clever  for  me.  I  might  have 
known.  As  Joe  Bart  he  was  one  of  the  smartest  detectives 
in  London." 

After  this  speech  Steel  began  to  think,  and  as  he  seemed 
impatient  of  interruption,  Giles  said  nothing.  In  due  time 
they  arrived  at  the  door  of  the  Priory.  It  was  close  on 
five  o'clock.  Steel  rang  the  bell,  and  as  he  did  so  a  couple 
of  policemen  came  round  the  comer  for  orders.  Steel 
told  them  to  wait  in  the  hall  while  he  saw  Denham.  "I 
don't  think  he  can  show  fight  with  a  broken  leg,"  said 
Steel  grimly. 


A  RAT  IN  A  CORNER  251 

As  he  spoke  the  door  opened.  Portia  with  her  freckled 
face  swollen  with  weeping  appeared.  She  did  not  seem 
astonished  at  the  sight  of  the  men  in  uniform.  Perhaps 
she  had  seen  them  lurking  in  the  neighborhood  and  knew 
what  to  expect. 

"Come  in,"  she  said  sullenly  to  Steel  and  his  companion. 
"My  father  expects  you." 

"Who  told  him  I  was  coming?"  asked  Steel. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  and  led  the  way  up  the 
stairs.  On  the  landing  she  turned  viciously.  "If  father 
had  not  broken  his  leg,  you  would  not  have  found  us 
here,"  she  declared. 

"I  quite  believe  that,"  retorted  Steel. 

"And  you  needn't  have  brought  those  beasts  of  men," 
continued  the  girl,  with  a  glance  at  the  police  in  the  hall. 
"We  are  all  alone.  Dowse  and  his  wife  and  daughter 
ran  away  whenever  they  heard  there  was  trouble." 

"Oh,  they  are  mixed  up  in  this  affair  also." 

"I  don't  know.  I  shan't  say  anything,  for  I  don't  know 
nothing." 

She  sullenly  led  the  way  through  a  long  corridor  and 
opened  the  door  of  a  sitting-room.  Here  on  a  sofa  with 
a  small  table  at  his  elbow  lay  Denham.  His  leg  was 
swathed  in  bandages,  and  he  wore  a  loose  dressing-gown. 
As  they  entered  he  laid  down  a  book  and  looked  at  them. 
His  face  was  worn,  his  hair  was  quite  grey,  but  the  bril- 
liance of  his  eyes  were  undimmed,  and  he  spoke  in  a  mas- 
terful manner. 

"Here  you  are,  Steel,"  he  said  coolly.  "Got  the  war- 
rant?" 

"How  do  you  know  I  have  a  warrant?"  asked  the  other, 
taken  aback. 

"I  knew  you  would  find  out  the  truth  the  moment  Mrs. 
Franklin,  or  rather,  I  should  say  the  Princess  Karacsay, 


2^2 


A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VIL 


discovered  me.  She  has  told  you  all  and  has  put  you  on 
my  track." 

"Dane  put  me  on  your  track." 

"Dane?  Well,  I'm  not  surprised.  He's  a  scoundrel. 
King's  evidence,  I  suppose?  I'll  defeat  him,  Steel.  Take 
a  scat  and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  myself." 

Very  much  surprised  at  this  calmness  the  two  men  sat 
down.  Denham  waved  his  daughter  out  of  the  room. 
She  was  unwilling  to  go,  but  a  glance  sent  her  away. 
When    she   closed   the   door   Denham    turned    to   Giles. 

"When  you  marry  Anne,  Mr.  Ware,"  said  he,  "ask  her 
to  look  after  my  poor  daughter." 

"How  do  you  know  I  shall  ever  marry  Anne?" 

"Because  you  are  a  determined  man.  Men  like  you 
usually  do  get  their  own  way.  You  intend  to  marry  Anne 
Franklin  and  you  will.  But  Portia  has  been  good  to 
Anne,  and  when  I  am  in  prison  I  hope  Anne  will  take  care 
of  her." 

"I'll  see  to  that,"  said  Giles.  "I  don't  believe  that  the 
sins  of  the  father  should  be  visited  on  the  children.  Do 
you  know  where  Anne  has  got  to?  She  went  away  with 
IMorley." 

At  the  sound  of  this  name  Denham's  face  grew  black. 
"I  wish  I  knew  where  Morley  is,"  he  said  vehemently. 
"I  would  give  him  up  to  the  police  with  pleasure.  On 
the  evening  of  the  day  Anne  escaped  he  came  here  with 
his  wife.  When  she  left  he  had  a  quarrel  with  me,  saying 
I  had  done  wrong  in  letting  Anne  go.  We  fought,  and 
he  threw  me  down  the  stairs.  My  leg  is  broken,  and  so 
I  could  not  get  away  from  the  police.  Well.  I  give  my- 
self up.  It  is  rather  hard  after  I  have  done  so  much  to 
get  the  money  I  wanted.'' 

"Even  to  committing  a  murder."  said  Steel. 

"No,"  said  Denham  decisively;  "I  did  not  kill  Daisy 


A  RAT  IN  A  CORNER  253 

Kent.  She  was  murdered  by — but  I'll  tell  you  that  later. 
In  the  meantime,  Mr.  Ware,  tell  me  what  the  Princess 
told  you,  and  I'll  supply  the  details  she  doubtless  has 
omitted.    Then  Steel  can  follow  with  his  tale." 

Giles  had  no  hesitation  in  complying  with  this  request. 
He  narrated  his  connection  with  Olga  and  the  story  told 
by  her  mother.  Also  he  detailed  how  he  had  confided  in 
Morley,  thinking  him  an  honorable  man.  This  was  the 
only  tim.e  when  Denham  smiled,  and  he  did  smile  derisive- 
ly. However,  he  did  not  interrupt,  but  when  Giles  was 
finished  looked  at  Steel.  That  gentleman  gave  a  history 
of  his  doings  and  discoveries.  He  omitted  all  mention 
of  Morley.    Denham  noted  this. 

"I  see  you  have  left  something  for  me  to  tell,"  he  said. 
"Well,  as  I  am  like  a  rat  in  a  corner,  I  must  give  in.  The 
end  has  come,  and  I  don't  know  that  I  am  sorry.  I  have 
had  a  very  uneasy  life  of  it  since  I  left  Jamaica.  And, 
as  usual,  it  was  a  woman  who  ruined  me." 

''Not  the  Princess  Karacsay,"  said  Giles  quickly. 

"Yes.  You  heard  her  version  of  the  story,  now  hear 
mine.    She  led  me  on,  she  behaved  badly,  she " 

"I  don't  believe  you.    I  won't  listen." 

"Very  good.  Then  we  will  take  up  the  story  from  the 
time  I  came  to  Milan,"  replied  Denham  coolly.  "Anne 
was  with  me,  and  I  treated  her  well.  She  never  knew 
anything  of  my  inner  life,  and  always  thought  me  a  good 
man.  I  rather  prided  myself  in  keeping  her  in  that  be- 
lief." 

"Dane  said  that  you  behaved  very  well,"  said  Steel. 

Denham  nodded  ironically.  "I  am  much  obliged  for  the 
good  opinion  of  such  a  scoundrel,"  he  said.  "Well,  you 
know  how  I  treated  Anne.  When  she  became  a  governess 
she  left  me  to  follow  out  my  idea  of  making  money.  I 
bought  a  yacht,  and  invented  the  Society  of  the  Scarlet 


254  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

Cross.  For  a  time  all  went  well.  Then  I  was  foolish 
enough  when  robbing  the  safe  of  Lady  Summersdale  to 
drop  a  cross — a  red  cross.  It  was  found  by  Bart — I  mean 
Morley,  who  was  the  detective." 

"You  can  call  him  Bart,"  said  Giles.  "Steel  told  me 
it  was  his  name." 

"1  prefer  to  call  him  Morley,  since  by  that  name  I  know 
him  best,"  was  Denham's  retort.  "As  I  say,  he  discovered 
the  red  cross.  He  had  charge  of  the  case,  and  he  traced 
me  by  that  ornament.  He  got  to  know  of  the  yacht  and 
of  the  working  of  the  gang.  Instead  of  arresting  us  all, 
which  he  could  have  done,  he  agreed  to  join  us." 

"I  thought  so!"  cried  Steel,  slapping  his  thigh.  "I 
guessed  this." 

"Did  you  offer  him  any  inducement?"  asked  Giles. 

"Yes.  At  first  he  was  bent  on  breaking  up  the  gang 
and  putting  me  in  jail.  But  I  remembered  how  Walpole 
had  said  that  every  man  had  his  price.  I  ascertained  Mor- 
ley's.  It  was  ease  and  comfort  and  plenty  of  money  to 
gamble  with." 

"Did  he  gamble?"  asked  Ware,  starting. 

"He  ruined  himself  with  gambling,"  replied  Denham. 
"If  it  had  not  been  for  his  indulgence  in  that  vice,  he 
would  not  have  joined  our  society,  Mr.  Ware.  However, 
he  did.  I  told  him  of  the  Powell  money,  and  said  that 
when  I  got  it  I  would  share  it  with  him.  Franklin  was 
drowned ;  I  had  his  papers,  and  knew  all  about  his  life, 
and  there  was  no  difficulty  in  my  proving  myself  to  be  the 
man.    I  did  so,  and  now  have  the  money." 

"But  the  price  of  Daisy's  death  was " 

"I'm  coming  to  that,"  interrupted  Denham  impatiently. 
"Well,  Morley  joined  us.  His  professional  information 
helped  us  to  improve  our  business.  He  made  me  give 
back  Lady  Summersdale's  jewels,  so  that  his  professional 


A  RAT  IN  A  CORNER  255 

reputation  might  be  preserved.  He  was  highly  compli- 
mented on  getting  the  swag  back,"  added  Denham,  smil- 
ing ironically,  "but  the  thieves  unfortunately  escaped." 

"And  he  was  hand  in  glove  with  the  lot  of  you,"  said 
Steel,  almost  with  admiration.  "I  always  said  Joe  Bart 
was  clever." 

"He  was  too  clever  for  me,"  said  Denham,  shifting  his 
position,  and  sighing  with  the  pain  of  his  leg.  However, 
with  iron  resolution  he  continued.  "But  I'll  punish  him 
yet.  Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  Morley  retired 
from  the  force  and  married  a  widow.  She  had  money. 
He  spent  all  she  had.  He  got  his  percentage  from  our 
society,  and  spent  that  also.  He  was  always  gambling, 
and  took  runs  up  to  town  to  lose  his  money  in  a  private 
hell  he  knew  of.  Afterwards  he  got  into  difficulties,  and 
began  to  yearn  for  the  Powell  money.  It  was  because 
Daisy  Kent  was  to  inherit  it  that  he  induced  her  father 
to  appoint  him  her  guardian." 

"And  for  that  reason  he  settled  in  Rickwell." 

"Yes.  Kent  had  known  Mrs.  Morley  for  many  years, 
and  it  was  she  who  was  the  guardian.  When  he  married 
Mrs.  Morley  our  friend  settled  in  Rickwell,  so  that  his 
wife  might  renew  her  friendship  with  Kent  and  get  the 
girl.  It  all  came  about  as  he  designed,  and  Daisy  Kent 
lived  at  The  Elms.  Morley  thought  he  would  sell  me,  and 
when  the  girl  got  the  money,  by  using  his  influence  to 
induce  her  to  give  it  to  him,  I  believe  he  was  capable  of 
killing  his  wife  and  of  marrying  Daisy.  But  that  scheme 
was  stopped  by  the  fact  that  Daisy  was  engaged  to  you, 
Ware." 

"I  am  thankful  that  she  was,"  said  Giles,  wiping  his 
face.    "What  a  devil  the  man  is !" 

"He  is  a  clever  man,"  replied  Denham  coolly,  "but  he 
was  not  sufficiently  clever  to  get  the  better  of  Daisy  Kent. 


256  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

What  she  found  out,  or  liow  he  treated  her,  I  don't  know  ; 
but  she  took  a  violent  hatred  to  him.    He  knew  she  would 

not  give  him  the  money  when  she  ijot  it,  and  so " 

"Stop!"   cried  Ware.     "Do  you  mean  to  say  Morley 
killed  the  girl  ?" 

"No.  I  wish  I  could  say  so.  But  he  was  in  his  house 
all  the  time.  He  is  innocent  enough.  I'll  tell  you  about 
that  later.  At  present  let  me  go  on  with  the  story.  I 
heard  by  cable  from  Australia  that  Powell  was  dead,  and 
then  I  feigned  death  to  get  rid  of  Anne.  I  came  to 
England,  and,  as  Wilson,  heard  about  the  will,  and  after- 
wards served  the  summons." 

"Why  did  you  serve  the  summons?" 

"I  simply  wanted  to  see  Morley  without  suspicion  be- 
ing excited.  I  saw  him  in  the  library.  He  told  me  that 
he  had  ordered  the  yacht  to  anchor  off  Gravesend  and  that 
Dane  was  coming  to  tell  him  when  it  was  there.  He  then 
asked  me  to  kill  Daisy  Kent,  saying  I  could  get  the  for- 
tune when  she  was  dead." 

Denham  paused,  and  wiped  his  face. 

"I  don't  pretend  to  be  a  good  man,"  he  said,  "but  I  de- 
clined to  murder  the  girl.  While  we  were  arguing  Anne 
entered.  When  she  saw  me  she  nearly  fainted,  as  she 
thought  I  was  dead.    She  recognized  me." 

"Yes,"  put  in  Giles,  "but  she  said  she  didn't  speak  to 
you." 

"But  she  did.  Morley  knew  then  that  she  was  Frank- 
lin's daughter,  and.  if  Daisy  died,  the  rightful  owner  of 
the  money.  I  expect  that  is  why  he  had  decoyed  her 
away.  Well,  I  made  Anne  agree  to  be  silent,  promising 
her  an  explanation  the  next  day.  She  left  the  room.  I 
went  away,  and  afterwards  to  church.  I  wished  to  see 
Daisy  and  warn  her  against  Morley.  I  passed  a  note  say- 
ing that  I  desired  to  see  her  about  the  money.    She  went 


A  RAT  IN  A  CORNER  257 

out.  I  followed  shortly.  It  was  snowing  heavily  when  I 
got  out.  I  heard  a  cry,  and  rushed  in  its  direction.  It 
came  from  the  grave  of  Kent.  Daisy  was  lying  there 
dead.    I  saw  a  man  dash  away " 

"Who  was  he?"  asked  Steel  and  Giles  simultaneously. 

"I  believe,  from  the  glimpse  I  caught,  he  was  Dane." 

"I  thought  so,"  said  Steel  triumphantly. 

"Yes,  Dane  killed  the  girl.  I  expect  Morley  put  him 
up  to  it.  I  lost  my  head.  I  knew  that  to  save  himself 
that  Morley  would  accuse  me.  I  rushed  forward.  Anne 
came  out.    I  hurriedly  explained,  and  then " 

"We  know,"  interrupted  Giles,  "you  bolted  on  my  mo- 
tor-car.   Tell  us  how  you  got  the  money." 

"Oh,  I  appeared  as  Franklin,  and  saw  Asher.  I  pro- 
duced my  papers,  and  was  put  into  formal  possession  of 
the  money.  Morley  insisted  that  I  should  live  down  here, 
under  his  eye.  I  could  not  refuse.  He  has  drained  me 
of  nearly  every  penny.  Then,  when  trouble  began,  he 
made  use  of  his  position  here  to  warn  me  of  what  was 
going  on." 

"He  made  a  fool  of  me,"  said  Giles  grimly.  "I  told 
him  everything,  and  you  played  that  nice  little  comedy  in 
the  park." 

"With  Mrs.  Benker  ?"  Denham  smiled.  "Yes ;  and  the 
soliloquy  was  my  own  idea.  I  knew  that  would  impose 
on  you." 

"Morley  swindled  me  also,"  said  Steel,  with  gloom. 
"Clever  man!" 

"You  said  that  before,"  remarked  Denham  dryly. 
"However,  when  Anne's  mother  appeared  I  knew  the 
game  was  up.  She  made  me  promise  to  send  Anne  to 
her,  so  I  had  to  let  her  go." 

"Why  did  you  blame  Anne  for  the  murder  ?" 

"I  wanted  to  stop  your  prying  into  matters  which  did 


258  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  ML 

not  concern  you,"  snarled  the  man  savagely.  "It  was  you 
who  started  all  this  infernal  business.  But  it's  all  over. 
You  can  arrest  me  as  soon  as  you  like,  Steel,  and  if  you 
can  catch  Morley  I'll  willingly  stand  in  the  dock  beside 
him." 

As  he  said  this  the  door  opened.  There  was  a  noise 
outside.  Portia  was  trying  to  keep  some  one  back,  but 
the  man  forced  his  way  past  her  and  into  the  room.  It 
was  Trim,  and  he  presented  a  letter  to  his  master.  "Beg 
pardon,  sir,  but  I  heard  you  were  here,  and  there's  a  let- 
ter came  this  morning  marked  'Immediate.'  I  wanted  to 
start  for  town,  but  when  I  heard  you  were  here  I  came 
over,  and  this  young  woman's  been  trying  to  keep  me 
out,  to  say  nothing  of  them  police  below." 

Giles  opened  the  letter  hastily.  Something  fell  with 
a  silvery  ring  on  the  floor.  Steel  picked  it  up.  "What's 
this?"  he  asked  wonderingly — "a  coin  with  precious 
stones !" 

"Anne's  Edward  VII.  half-sovereign,"  shouted  Giles. 
"This  is  from  her."  The  letter,  written  in  pencil,  merely 
said,  "Prisoner — yacht — Bilbao." 

"Steel,"  cried  Giles,  "Morie^  has  taken  her  to  Bilbao! 
We  follow." 


CHAPTER  XXy 

A  CATASTROPHE 

ABOUT  noon  the  next  day  Steel  and  Giles  were  on 
their  way  to  Bilbao.  This  prompt  following  of 
Morley  was  due  to  the  fertile  resource  of  Ware.  He  re- 
membered that  a  friend  of  his  possessed  a  yacht  which 
was  at  present  lying  in  Dover  Harbor.  The  friend,  Lord 
Kingsbridge,  fortunately  happened  to  be  in  London,  and 
Giles  wired  an  appointment.  With  Steel  he  went  up  to 
Town  on  that  same  night  and  drove  at  once  to  the  Wan- 
derers' Qub,  where  Kingsbridge  was  waiting  for  them. 
Giles  explained  the  situation,  and  secured  the  yacht  at 
once.  "The  boat  is  quite  ready  to  start,"  said  Kings- 
bridge.  "AH  you  have  to  do  is  to  get  steam  up.  I  was 
thinking  of  going  on  a  cruise  myself,  and  so  had  Tlie 
Firefly  put  in  order." 

"Why  not  come  with  us  to  Bilbao,  my  lord  ?" 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Steel,  but  I  have  to  wait  in  town  for 
a  day  or  two,  and  time  is  everything  in  this  matter.  If 
you  take  the  first  morning  train  to  Dover,  you  ought  to 
be  on  your  way  to  Spain  in  the  afternoon.  When  did  this 
other  boat  start  ?" 

"Yesterday  afternoon  from  Gravesend,"  said  Giles. 

"Well,  my  yacht's  a  quick  one,  so  I  daresay  you  will  be 


26o  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

able  to  catch  this  other  one  before  she  gets  to  her  destina- 
tion. You'll  have  bad  weather,  I  fear,"  said  Kingsbridge; 
"there's  a  storm  getting  up." 

"I  don't  care  if  it  blows  the  world  out  of  the  solar 
system,"  cried  Ware  savagely;  "I'm  going  to  catch  that 
man." 

"And  the  lady?    Well,  good  luck  to  you,  Ware." 

"Thank  you,  Kingsbridge.  I  shan't  forget  your  kind- 
ness," replied  the  young  man,  and  departed  with  Steel  in 
hot  haste. 

Thus  it  happened  that  the  two  found  themselves  on 
board  The  Firefly  steaming  for  Bilbao  at  top  speed.  The 
boat  was  two  hundred  tons,  yacht  measurement,  schooner- 
rigged  fore  and  aft,  with  powerful  engines  and  twin 
screws.  When  all  her  furnaces  were  going  she  could 
smoke  through  the  water  at  surprising  speed,  and  her  cap- 
tain having  received  instructions  from  Kingsbridge,  drove 
her  south  for  all  she  was  worth.  He  was  a  pleasant  young 
fellow  called  Calthorpe,  and  when  he  heard  that  the  trip 
was  being  made  to  rescue  a  lady  took  a  personal  interest 
in  the  affair.  He  made  up  his  mind  to  catch  The  Red 
Cross  before  she  reached  Bilbao. 

"Is  she  a  fast  boat?"  he  asked  when  The  Firefly  cleared 
the  Channel. 

"Nearly  as  fast  as  this  craft,"  replied  Mark  Dane,  who 
was  at  his  elbow.    "She  was  built  for  speed." 

"H'm,''  said  the  captain ;  "it's  stonny  weather,  and  her 
speed  will  depend  a  good  deal  on  the  way  she  is  handled. 
I  don't  expect  she'll  do  much  in  the  Bay." 

Evidently  Calthorpe  was  not  going  to  let  his  boat  be 
beaten  by  an  outsider.  He  had  never  heard  of  The  Red 
Cross,  and  l>Ciieved  The  Firefly  to  be  one  of  the  smartest 
crafts  afloat.  The  weather  was  dirty,  and  when  the  gal- 
lant little  bo:'.i  lifted  the  Atlantic  waves  they  were  running 


A  CATASTROPHE  261 

mountains  high.  But  Calthorpe  drove  his  vessel  sheer 
through  them,  and  never  slackened  his  speed  for  all  their 
fury.  And  now  it  must  be  explained  how  Dane  came  to 
be  on  board.  The  explanation  may  be  given  in  his  own 
words  to  Giles. 

"When  I  left  you  in  London,  sir,"  he  said,  "I  wondered 
where  Morley  had  taken  Miss  Anne.  From  what  I  knew 
I  guessed  that  he  would  not  carry  her  to  the  Priory  at 
Rickwell.  It  then  struck  me  that  he  might  use  the  yacht. 
Since  Steel  took  up  the  case  she  has  changed  her  name 
and  her  appearance,  for  Morley  and  Denham  were  both 
afraid  lest  she  might  be  found  out.  The  gang  of  course 
know  nothing  of  my  intention  to  smash  up  the  organiza- 
tion, and  I  knew  that  I  could  get  all  information  from 
one  of  them.  I  sent  a  wire  to  this  man — he's  called  Ar- 
den — and  received  information  that  the  boat  was  at 
Gravesend  by  Morley's  orders,  under  the  name  of  The 
Dark  Horse." 

"Rather  a  good  name,"  said  Ware,  smiling.  "Morley 
is  something  of  a  humorist." 

"He's  a  devil!"  said  Dane  fiercely.  "I'll  tell  you  my 
reason  for  saying  so  later,  sir.  I  went  to  Gravesend  and 
found  her  lying  in  mid-stream.  I  went  on  board  and 
learned  that  Morley  was  away,  but  that  the  boat  was  to 
sail  shortly  for  some  unknown  destination." 

"Where  was  Morley?" 

"Up  in  town,  sir,  getting  his  money  together  to  make 
tracks.  I  found  Miss  Anne  on  board.  She  told  me  that 
Morley  had  suggested  they  should  get  to  Rickwell  by  the 
Gravesend  line,  and  she,  not  thinking  any  harm  of  him 
and  anxious  to  see  Denham  and  learn  the  truth  about  her 
dead  father,  agreed.  He  took  her  down  and  drugged  her 
in  the  train.  As  an  invalid  she  was  taken  on  board  The 
Dark  Horse  and  confined  to  her  cabin.    A  hag  called  Mrs. 


262  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

Johns  attended  to  her.  I  know  the  old  wretch.  A  regu- 
lar bad  one ;  but  devoted  to  Morley,  who  got  her  out  of 
some  trouble." 

"Why  did  you  not  rescue  Miss  Anne,"  said  Giles,  "and 
save  us  this  journey,  Dane?" 

"I  couldn't.  Mrs.  Johns  allowed  me  to  see  Miss  Anne, 
as  she  had  no  reason  to  suspect  me ;  but  she  kept  guard 
at  the  door,  and  would  not  let  me  out  of  her  sight  almost. 
If  I  had  tried  to  take  Miss  Anne  ashore,  she'd  have 
brought  the  crew  on  me.  They  are  all  Morley's  creatures. 
I  should  simply  have  been  poleaxed  and  dropped  over- 
board, while  the  yacht  sailed  away.  No,  sir.  I  told  Miss 
Anne  my  difficulty,  and  asked  her  to  send  a  line  to  you  at 
the  Priory — where  I  knew  you  were — that  you  might 
follow.    She  wrote  three  or  four  words " 

"I  know,"  interrupted  Giles,  "and  enclosed  the  coin." 

"She  did  that,  sir,  so  that  you  could  be  sure  the  mes- 
sage came  from  her.  I  posted  the  letter.  Then  I  went 
on  shore  and  waited  till  Morley  came  back.  I  learned 
from  Miss  Anne  that  the  boat  w'as  going  to  Bilbao,  and 
when  she  started  I  came  on  to  the  Priory  to  ask  if  I  could 
join  in  the  hunt  for  Miss  Anne.  Yes,"  cried  Dane,  shak- 
ing his  fist,  "and  the  hunt  after  that  devil  Morley." 

"Why  do  you  hate  him  so?"  asked  Giles,  wondering  at 
the  man's  fierceness  and  ill-suppressed  emotion. 

Dane  thought  for  a  moment,  then  answered,  with  his 
eyes  on  the  deck,  "Morley  killed  my  mother,"  he  said  in 
a  low  voice.  "No,  sir,  not  in  the  way  you  think.  He 
killed  her  by  telling  her  what  I  was.  She  was  a  good 
woman.  She  brought  me  up  well,  and  did  her  best  to 
make  me  a  decent  man.  I  was  well  behaved  till  I  went  to 
Italy  to  study  singing,  and  fell  in  with  Denham.  He 
made  me  bad.  Afterwards  Morley  made  me  worse.  I 
have  thieved,  I  have — but  what  does  the  catalogue  of  my 


A  CATASTROPHE  263 

crimes  matter  to  you,  sir  ?  In  a  word,  Denham  and  Mor- 
ley  ruined  me.  I  hate  them  both,  but  Morley  worst  of  all. 
Do  you  think  Denham  will  recover  ?" 

"From  his  broken  leg?  Of  course  he  will,  and  then  he 
wall  be  taken  to  jail  at  once.  Steel  left  the  warrant  be- 
hind to  be  executed,  in  order  that  he  might  come  with 
me." 

"I  hope  Denham  will  get  a  long  sentence,  sir,"  said 
Dane  savagely.  "He  is  a  bad  man.  But  Morley — nothing 
short  of  death  will  expiate  his  crime  so  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned. I  wanted  to  reform,  sir.  Miss  Anne  was  so  good 
to  me  that  I  saw  how  wicked  was  the  life  I  was  living. 
I  wished  to  reform  and  return  to  my  mother.  Morley 
heard  of  this.  He  followed  me  to  New  York,  where  I 
was  then.  I  had  fled  from  the  gang,  saying  I  would  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  the  thieving.  Morley  found  me 
with  my  mother.  He  told  her  what  I  was."  Here  Dane 
paused  and  sighed.    "The  blow  killed  her." 

"She  died  of  a  broken  heart,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,  of  a  broken  heart.  Then  I  went  back  with  Mor- 
ley to  the  old  life  like  a  whipped  dog.  But  I  vowed 
revenge.  I  intend  to  have  it  now."  And  he  set  his  teeth 
determinedly. 

Giles  was  sorry  for  the  young  man.  He  appeared  to 
have  some  good  in  him  when  he  felt  the  death  of  his 
mother,  and  the  cause  of  it,  so  deeply.  But  Ware  could 
not  help  remembering  that  Dane  had  murdered  Daisy 
Kent.  But  for  the  fact  that  they  relied  on  Dane  to  dis- 
tinguish The  Red  Cross  under  her  disguise,  he  would  not 
have  been  allowed  to  come.  But  Steel  thought  it  was 
best  to  catch  Morley  first  and  then  have  Dane  arrested  for 
the  crime.  He  advised  Giles  to  say  nothing  about  it, 
lest  it  should  arouse  the  suspicions  of  Dane.  But  on 
board  The  Firefly  there  was  no  escape  for  the  man,  and 


264  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

after  the  previous  conversation  Giles  began  to  wonder 
if  Dane  really  was  guilty,  despite  the  belief  of  Steel  and 
the  evidence  of  Denham.  He  resolved  to  set  his  doubts 
at  rest. 

"Dane,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "you  appear  to  have 
much  good  in  you,  and  the  Princess  Olga  is  anxious  to 
save  you  from  yourself.  Since  you  are  helping  us  to 
break  up  this  gang  and  catch  Morley,  who  appears  to  be 
the  arch-criminal,  I  am  willing  to  do  what  I  can  to  save 

you  from  the  law.    But  there  is  another  crime " 

"What  particular  crime  do  you  mean,  sir  ?"  asked  Dane 
quietly. 

"The  murder  of  Miss  Kent." 

Dane  started.  "Do  you  believe  that  I  had  an>1;hing  to 
do  with  that?" 

"Why  not  ?  You  were  at  Rickwell  on  the  night  it  was 
committed." 

"I  was.  I  came  over  from  the  yacht  at  Gravesend  to 
tell  Morley  she  was  waiting  his  orders  there,  and  to  tell 
Denham  also.  He  had  appointed  a  meeting  there  for  me. 
I  came  on  a  motor-bicycle.    What  of  that  ?" 

"A  man  called  Scott  told  Steel  that  you  were  in  Rick- 
well." 

"I  admit  it.  I  know  Scott.  He  has  turned  King's  evi- 
dence. It  seems  to  me,  sir,  that  the  whole  lot  of  us  will 
be  pardoned  if  we  are  so  anxious  to  betray  one  another. 

But  this  crime " 

"Denham  says  you  killed  the  girl." 
Dane  sprang  to  his  feet  with  flashing  eyes.  "I  swear 
by  all  that  I  hold  most  holy  that  I  did  not  touch  the  girl," 
he  declared.  "I  never  even  set  eyes  on  her.  Denham 
accuses  me — yes,  because  I  have  told  the  truth  about  him. 
I  came  on  that  night  and  saw  Morley  and  him  at  the  win- 
dow of  the  library  in  Morley's  house.    When  I  gave  my 


A  CATASTROPHE  265 

message  about  the  yacht  I  returned  to  Tilbury,  and  then 
crossed  to  the  boat.  I  never  killed  the  girl,  by  the  memory 
of  my  mother!" 

"You  seem  to  be  speaking  the  truth,"  said  Giles  quickly. 
"Did  you  enter  the  library?  The  girl  was  killed  by  a 
stiletto  torn  from  the  trophy  of  arms  near  the  desk." 

"I  was  not  in  the  library.  ]\Iorley  would  not  allow  me 
to  enter.  He  and  Denham  spoke  to  me  on  the  terrace. 
When  a  noise  was  heard  at  the  door — I  believe  now  it  was 
]\'Iiss  Anne  who  was  entering — Morley  gave  me  the  tip 
to  get  away." 

"Was  the  stiletto  in  its  place?" 

"I  don't  know.    I  never  noticed." 

"Do  you  think  Morley  killed  the  girl  ?" 

"Either  he  or  Denham,"  replied  Dane  decisively ;  "and 
I  think  it  was  the  latter.  When  I  heard  of  the  crime 
being  committed,  I  saw  Mrs.  Morley  and  asked  her  if  her 
husband  was  guilty.  She  denied  it,  saying  that  he  was 
in  the  library  all  the  time.    She  came  down  and  saw  him." 

"She  might  do  that  to  save  her  husband." 

Dane  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  think  she  was  fond 
enough  of  him  for  that,  sir,"  he  answered.  "She  was 
when  he  married  her ;  but  he  treated  her  so  badly — as  I 
was  told  by  Denham — that  she  grew  to  hate  him.  He 
spent  her  money,  and  behaved  like  the  brute  he  is.  For 
the  sake  of  her  children  she  said  nothing,  but  she  was 
fond  of  Miss  Kent,  and  I  don't  think  she  would  have 
defended  him  if  a  charge  of  killing  the  girl  had  been 
made." 

"Did  Mrs.  Morley  know  anything  about  the  gang?" 

"No,  she  knew  nothing.  Morley  always  took  good  car6 
to  keep  her  in  ignorance.  She  knew  no  more  of  his  secret 
life  than  Miss  Anne  did  of  Denham's.  Both  men  were 
very  clever  in  concealing  that  which  they  did  not  want 


266  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VIL 

to  be  known.  But  you  believe  that  I  am  innocent  of  this 
charge?" 

"Yes.  You  can  face  Denham  when  you  return  and 
ask  him  what  are  his  grounds  for  accusing  you." 

"If  ever  I  do  come  back,"  said  Dane  gloomily.  And 
the  conversation  ended  for  the  time  being. 

Dane  made  himself  very  useful  on  board,  and  Calthorpe 
took  quite  a  fancy  to  him.  In  addition  to  his  other  gifts 
he  proved  to  be  an  excellent  sailor.  It  seems  that  he  had 
run  away  from  home,  and  had  worked  for  some  years  be- 
fore the  mast  as  a  common  seaman.  He  now  wished  to 
do  what  he  could  on  board  The  Firefly,  and  chummed 
with  the  crew.  So  great  a  favorite  did  he  become  with 
Calthorpe  that  when  he  asked  to  be  allowed  to  steer,  the 
favor  was  readily  granted  to  him,  and  he  proved  very 
proficient.  Certainly  Calthorpe  did  not  know  he  was  a 
suspected  murderer  and  had  been  a  thief,  and  neither 
Steel  nor  Giles  said  anything  about  this.  Steel,  indeed, 
still  held  to  the  belief  that  Dane  was  guilty;  but  Ware 
laughed  at  him. 

"You  said  that  Miss  Anne  w^as  guilty,"  he  declared; 
"then  you  believed  that  Denham  had  struck  the  blow; 
now  you  are  convinced  that  Dane  is  the  criminal.  For 
my  part  I  believe  Denham  to  be  guilty." 

"He  may  be,"  replied  Steel,  with  a  shrug.  "I  am  so 
puzzled  over  this  case  that  I  am  prepared  for  any  develop- 
ment. At  all  events,  Denham  is  being  looked  after.  He 
can't  escape  me,  whether  he  is  merely  a  thief  or  really 
the  murderer  we  are  in  search  of." 

When  The  Firefly  got  into  the  Bay  of  Biscay  the  wea- 
ther was  worse  than  ever.  Giles  was  pleased,  as  Calthorpe 
told  him  that  there  was  the  better  chance  of  catching  The 
Dark  Horse  before  she  reached  her  port  of  destination. 
Once  on  Spanish  soil  and  Giles  feared  lest  Morley  should 


A  CATASTROPHE  267 

carry  Anne  off  to  the  mountains.  He  was  such  a  scoun- 
drel, and  so  clever,  that  it  might  be  possible  he  had  con- 
federates at  Bilboa  to  help  him  to  carry  out  any  scheme  he 
might  suggest.  Giles  wished  to  catch  him  before  he  had 
time  to  formulate  any  new  villainy.  At  all  events,  Morley 
would  never  think  that  they  had  tracked  him  so  speedily, 
or  had  followed  so  rapidly.  It  was  unlikely  that  he  would 
use  the  yacht  to  the  fullest  extent  of  her  steaming  powers. 

In  the  centre  of  the  Bay  The  Firefly  was  caught  by  the 
full  force  of  the  stonn.  The  wind  and  waves  were  terri- 
fic, but  the  gallant  little  boat  proved  herself  trustworthy. 
Under  a  sullen  sky,  over  a  dismal  grey  sea  she  steamed, 
her  decks  streaming  with  water,  and  the  ship  herself  roll- 
ing terribly. 

Calthorpe  did  not  slacken  speed,  and  the  boat  responded 
splendidly  to  his  handling.  .A  sharp  lookout  was  kept  by 
all  on  board  for  the  yacht,  as  Giles  had  offered  a  large 
reward  for  the  first  man  who  espied  the  boat.  But  the 
difficulty  was  that  none  of  the  crew  knew  the  looks  of 
The  Dark  Horse.  However,  they  were  to  hail  when  they 
saw  anything  in  the  shape  of  a  yacht,  and  there  were  one 
or  two  false  alarms.  At  length,  when  The  Firefly  was  ap- 
proaching the  Spanish  coast,  Dane,  who  was  on  deck  with 
a  glass,  gave  the  alarm.  It  was  a  misty,  grey  day,  with 
absence  of  sun  and  wind.  The  ocean  was  heaving  like 
masses  of  liquid  pitch  with  an  oily  look,  and  the  yacht 
cut  sheer  through  the  terrific  waves  that  threatened  to 
overwhelm  her.  Suddenly  a  wind  rose,  there  was  a  blink 
of  sunshine,  and  about  a  mile  away  a  bark  was  seen  roll- 
ing in  the  trough  of  the  sea.  "There  she  is !"  roared  Dane, 
and  every  one  came  on  deck. 

"Are  you  sure?"  cried  Giles,  taking  the  glass. 

"Perfectly  sure,"  replied  Dane,  who  was  dangerously 
excited.    "Captain,  let  me  handle  the  wheel  as  a  reward." 


268  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

Calthorpe  gave  his  assent,  as  he  knew  what  a  good 
steersman  Dane  was.  He  then  took  his  post  beside  Giles 
and  Steel,  who  were  admitted  on  to  the  bridge,  and  thence 
directed  the  ship.  Then  The  Firefly  made  a  bee-line  for 
the  distant  ship. 

Steel  and  Giles  had  less  sense  than  they  should  have 
had;  and  Dane  in  his  joy  at  the  sight  of  his  prey  quite 
forgot  that  with  a  good  glass  Morley  could  recognize 
them  all  three.  It  was  The  Red  Cross,  alias  The  Dark 
Horse,  that  was  steaming  leisurely  southward,  and  doing 
her  best  to  battle  with  the  strong  seas  that  hammered  her 
newly  painted  sides.  Thus  Morley,  who  had  never  ex- 
pected such  promptitude,  became  aware  that  his  foes  were 
at  his  heels.  He  saw  the  detective  and  Giles  on  the 
bridge.  But  Dane  he  did  not  see,  being  in  too  much  of  a 
hurry  after  his  first  glimpse  of  the  danger  to  take  further 
interest  in  those  on  board  The  FircHy.  The  result  of 
Morley's  decision  was  that  those  on  the  pursuing  yacht 
saw  clouds  of  smoke  pouring  out  of  the  funnel,  and  knew 
that  the  furnaces  were  being  crammed  to  suffocation. 
There  was  a  shout  of  joy  from  The  Firefly's  crew,  for 
now  the  fun  was  beginning. 

"We'll  see  if  she'll  beat  my  boat,"  said  Calthorpe  on 
the  bridge. 

It  was  very  stormy,  and  black  clouds  were  racing  across 
a  pallid  sky.  A  furious  wind  had  blown  the  mists  into 
shreds  of  vapor,  and  was  ripping  white  spume  from  the 
tops  of  the  rearing  waves.  The  vessel  in  flight  soared 
like  a  swallow,  and  slid  down  into  mile-long  valleys ;  but 
The  Firefly,  having  more  powerful  engines,  tore  straight 
through  the  walls  of  water  that  threatened  to  block  her 
way.  She  trembled  with  the  vibration  of  her  screws,  and 
in  the  stormy  heaving  of  the  water  there  was  great  dan- 
ger lest  her  propeller  fans  should  snap.    However,  the  en- 


A  CATASTROPHE  269 

gineer  stood  with  his  hand  on  the  throttle-valve,  and 
stopped  the  spinning  of  the  screws  when  they  emerged. 

Much  the  same  tactics  were  being  pursued  on  board 
The  Dark  Horse,  save  that  in  addition  the  safety-valve 
was  tied  down.  The  engines  worked  at  furious  speed, 
and  the  boat  leaped  like  a  hunted  stag.  But  the  hound 
on  its  heels  came  closer  and  closer,  and  those  on  The  Dark 
Horse  could  hear  the  roar  of  the  delighted  Firefly  crew. 
Morley  ground  his  teeth,  and  fed  his  furnaces  again. 
Anne  came  on  deck. 

"Go  below !"  he  said,  and  swore  at  her. 

"I  shall  not,"  she  retorted,  and  got  away  from  him. 

He  was  not  able  to  pursue,  not  being  in  position  to 
leave  his  post  beside  the  captain.  Besides,  he  thought  it 
mattered  very  little  whether  she  was  seen  or  not.  Ware 
knew  that  she  was  on  board,  and,  moreover,  if  The  Dark 
Horse  were  overhauled,  he  would  suffer  most  himself  by 
the  capture.  It  would  do  him  no  good  to  throw  Anne 
overboard,  although  he  felt  much  inclined  to  do  so  if  only 
for  revenge. 

Calthorpe  could  well  be  proud  of  his  boat.  She  re- 
sponded gallantly  to  the  strain  put  upon  her,  and  tore 
like  a  mad  thing  through  the  waste  of  waters.  She  swung 
'longside  of  The  Dark  Horse,  Dane  steering  with  flashing 
eyes  and  his  long  hair  streaming  in  the  wind.  There  was 
less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  separating  the  boats.  Mor- 
ley swerved  to  the  right.  Dane  followed.  A  pretty  bit 
of  steering  on  the  part  of  both  vessels  took  place  until 
the  winds  and  waves  took  command.  Then  the  boats, 
out  of  hand,  swung  together,  almost  touching.  Giles 
could  see  Anne.     She  cried  out  and  stretched  her  hands. 

Suddenly  Dane  turned  the  yacht  in  a  circle.  Calthorpe 
shouted  to  know,  with  several  adjectives,  what  he  was 
up  to.    He  would  have  stopped  the  engines,  which  were 


270  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

working  furiously,  but  that  it  was  dangerous  at  the  mo- 
ment. The  Firefly  swung  round,  and  then  with  the  rush 
of  a  wounded  bull  came  straight  at  The  Dark  Horse. 

"Hell !"  cried  Calthorpe,  "he's  going  to  ram  her." 

There  was  no  time  to  stop  the  engines,  or  to  reverse 
them.  Those  on  The  Dark  Horse  gave  a  yell  of  fear 
as  the  larger  vessel  bore  down  on  their  slighter  craft. 
Dane,  fairly  mad,  shouted  out  abuse  to  Morley.  Another 
moment  and  the  pursuing  yacht  struck  the  other  mid- 
ships, cutting  her  almost  to  the  waterline.  All  on  board 
both  ships  were  thrown  down.  The  Firefly  reeled  back. 
Giles  lifted  his  head  to  see  Anne  falling  overboard  as 
The  Dark  Horse  lurched  in  the  roaring  waters.  With  a 
cry  of  terror,  he  tore  a  lifebelt  from  its  fastenings  and 
threw  himself  after  her. 

After  that  he  could  only  recollect  that  he  was  swim- 
ming for  dear  life  and  for  her,  amongst  those  furious 
waves.  Lifted  on  the  crest  of  one  he  saw  her  some  dis- 
tance away — a  white  figure  against  the  black  water.  Then 
he  went  sliding  down  into  the  liquid  valley.  How  he 
reached  her  he  did  not  know ;  but  after  a  terrific  struggle 
he  found  her  in  his  arms.  He  managed  to  slip  the  life- 
belt over  her  head,  and  kept  her  up  with  one  arm  while 
he  kept  afloat  with  the  other.  She  was  insensible,  but 
Giles  retained  all  his  wits.  He  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
ragged,  injured  bows  of  The  Firefly  high  above  him,  and 
saw  that  Calthorpe  was  launching  a  boat.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments it  came  plunging  towards  him,  and  he  was  hauled 
on  board  with  Anne.    Steel  was  in  the  boat,  ashy  pale. 

"Is  our  boat  safe?"  gasped  Giles. 

"Yes.  But  The  Dark  Horse  is  going  down.  Dane  has 
gone  overboard." 

Suddenly  Steel  shrieked,  and  Giles  turned  to  where  he 
pointed.    In  the  trough  of  the  sea  The  Dark  Horse  was 


A  CATASTROPHE  271 

plunging  like  a  colt,  rolling  like  a  drunken  man.  Giles 
saw  Morley;  near  him  Dane  with  a  savage  look  on  his 
face.  Morley,  with  terror  in  his  eyes,  tried  to  get  away, 
but  Dane  reached  him,  flung  his  arms  round  him,  and  with 
a  wild  shout  both  men  went  down  into  the  furiously  bub- 
bling witch-caldron,  never  to  rise  again. 

The  strain  of  the  whole  terrible  business  was  too  much 
for  Giles  Ware.  For  the  first  and  last  time  in  his  life 
he  fainted.  The  last  recollection  he  had  was  of  seeing 
the  doomed  vessel  plunging  downwards  and  a  cloud  of 
white  steam  rising  with  a  terrible  roar  from  her  explod- 
ing boilers.    After  that,  darkness  and  insensibility. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


THE  END  OF  THE  TROUBLE. 


GILES  returned  to  Rickwell  within  a  week,  to  find 
that  great  changes  had  taken  place  in  the  place, 
even  in  that  little  while.  After  the  foundering  of  The 
Dark  Horse,  the  other  yacht  had  returned  to  England 
forthwith.  She  had  not  been  very  badly  damaged  by 
Dane's  mad  act,  although  her  bows  had  been  smashed. 
Calthorpe,  indeed,  had  been  on  the  point  of  putting  in  to 
the  nearest  port  to  refit,  but  finding  that  The  Firefly  was 
still  seaworthy  he  held  on  until  he  got  back  to  Dover. 

Some  of  the  crew  of  the  lost  ship  had  been  picked  up. 
As  they  were  all  more  or  less  connected  with  the  Scarlet 
Cross  Society,  Steel  took  charge  of  them  and  conducted 
them  to  London.  Giles  accompanied  Anne  to  her  mother. 
The  Princess  Karacsay  received  her  with  open  arms,  and 
Olga  with  many  professions  of  gratitude.  "You  have 
undone  all  the  harm  I  caused,"  said  Olga  to  Giles. 

•  'Oh,  that's  all  right,"  he  replied.  "We  are  friends 
now?" 

"Friends,  and  nothing  more  than  friends.  I  am  return- 
ing to  Vienna  with  my  mother,  and  have  agreed  to  marry 
Count  Taroc." 

Satisfied  on  this  point,  Giles  went  back  to  Rickwell, 


THE  END  OF  THE  TROUBLE  2^^ 

leaving  Anne'  to  the  society  of  the  Princess.  Almost  as 
soon  as  he  set  foot  in  his  home  he  was  informed  of  the 
news  by  Trim. 

"Mr.  Franklin  is  dead,"  said  Trim,  with  startling 
abruptness. 

"Dead !"  echoed  Ware  astonished.  "Was  his  broken 
leg  the  cause  ?" 

"No,"  replied  the  old  man ;  "but  yesterday  he  received  a 
telegram,  and  afterwards  took  a  dose  of  poison.  His 
daughter  is  coming  here  to  see  you,  sir.  She  heard  you 
were  to  be  here  to-day." 

Giles  wondered  why  Portia  should  come  to  see  him, 
and  also  why  Denham  should  have  committed  suicide 
after  receiving  a  telegram.  Trim  could  not  tell  him  what 
the  telegram  was  about,  so  Giles  had  to  wait  until  the 
girl  chose  to  call  and  enlighten  him.  Perhaps  she  had  a 
message  for  him  from  the  dead  man  concerning  Anne. 
Meanwhile  Trim  went  on  to  state  that  Mrs.  Morley  was 
leaving  Rickwell. 

"She  has  sold  all  her  furniture  and  has  let  The  Elms," 
said  Trim.  "I  saw  Morris  yesterday,  and  he  tells  me  she 
is  stopping  at  'The  IMerry  Dancer'  with  her  children." 

"Does  she  know  of  her  husband's  death?"  asked  Giles. 

"Death,  sir.    Is  Mr.  Morley  dead  ?" 

"I  forgot.  You  do  not  know.  Yes,  Trim.  He  went 
down  in  his  yacht,  The  Dark  Horse,  in  the  Bay  of  Bis- 
cay." 

"Poor  woman!"  said  Trim,  looking  shocked;  "she  was 
so  fond  of  him." 

Ware  had  his  own  opinion  on  this  point,  so  made  no 
remark.  He  turned  over  the  correspondence  that  had 
accumulated  during  his  absence,  and  found  a  letter  from 
Mrs.  Morley  written  a  day  or  so  previous.  She  said 
therein  that  she  wished  to  see  him  particularly,  and  that 


274  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

she  would  call  as  soon  as  he  returned.  She  had  some- 
thing most  particular  to  tell  him.  The  word  "particular" 
was  underlined.  Giles  wondered  if  she  intended  to  tell 
him  some  of  Morley's  rascalities.  But  then  he  remem- 
bered that,  according  to  Dane,  she  knew  nothing  of  the 
double  life  which  her  husband  had  led.  Anxious  to  hear 
what  she  had  to  say,  he  despatched  a  note  by  Trim  asking 
her  to  come  to  his  house,  and  offering  to  go  to  the  inn, 
should  she  prefer  their  conversation  to  take  place  there. 
When  Trim  departed,  Giles  proceeded  to  despatch  such 
business  connected  with  his  estates  as  was  necessary. 

Hardly  had  he  been  an  hour  engaged  in  this  way  when 
Portia  called  to  see  him.  She  had  discarded  her  rainbow- 
colored  garb,  and  was  clothed  in  funereal  black.  When 
she  entered  Giles'  study  he  saw  that  her  eyes  were  red, 
and  her  face  swollen  with  weeping.  He  felt  extremely 
sorry  for  the  poor  girl,  and  privately  determined  to  look 
after  her  as  Denham  had  requested.  Meantime  he  did 
his  best  to  console  Portia. 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  of  your  father's  death,"  he  said 
sympathetically.    Portia  looked  at  him  indignantly. 

"Why  should  you  say  that?"  she  demanded ;  "you  were 
not  his  friend." 

"No.  I  certainly  was  not.  All  the  same  I  cannot 
help  regretting  that  a  man  with  such  great  gifts  should 
have  wasted  them  in  the  way  he  did,  and  should  have  put 
an  end  to  himself." 

"There  was  nothing  else  for  him  to  do,"  said  the  girl 
mournfully.  "He  was  to  be  taken  to  gaol  as  soon  as  his 
leg  was  better.  The  police  could  not  move  him  immedi- 
atelv,  or  he  would  have  been  put  in  gaol  long  ago.  But 
he's  dead  now,  and  I'm  glad.  Whatever  you  may  say  of 
him,  Mr.  Ware,  he  was  my  father,  and  good  to  me. 
Yes,  and  he  was  good  to  Anne  also.    She'll  tell  you  so." 


THE  END  OF  THE  TROUBLE  275 

'T  am  sure  he  was,"  answered  Giles  gently.  "Your 
father  had  his  good  points,  Portia.  How  much  of  his 
sad  history  do  you  know  ?" 

"I  know  he  had  his  faults,"  she  replied  doggedly,  "and 
that  he  was  very  badly  treated  by  that  beast  IMorley.  I'm 
glad  Morley  is  dead." 

"How  do  you  know  he  is?"  asked  Giles  sharply. 

"Father  got  a  telegram  yesterday  from  Steel.  Steel 
promised  to  let  him  know  if  Morley  was  caught,  as  father 
hated  him  so.  When  the  telegram  came  saying  that  Mor- 
ley was  drowned,  father  said  that  he  had  nothing  left  to 
live  for,  and  that  he  was  quite  pleased  to  die.  Then  he 
sent  me  out  of  the  room  and  took  poison.  I  came  back  in 
an  hour,"  sobbed  Portia,  "and  found  him  dead.  He 
looked  so  handsome  as  a  corpse." 

Giles  shivered  at  this  morbid  speech,  but  made  no  com- 
ment thereon.  He  saw  that  Portia  knew  very  little,  and 
was  determined  in  her  own  mind  to  know  no  more.  She 
had  elevated  her  dead  father  to  the  rank  of  a  hero,  and 
would  not  listen  to  a  word  against  him.  Ware  thought 
there  must  have  been  a  great  deal  of  good  in  Denham, 
despite  his  evil  career,  seeing  that  he  had  gained  the  good 
will  of  both  Portia  and  Anne.  But  he  had  no  time  to  talk 
further  to  Portia  on  these  points,  as  a  card  was  brought 
in  to  him,  and  he  learned  that  Mrs.  Morley  was  waiting  to 
see  him.    He  said  a  few  final  words  to  Portia. 

"How  do  you  stand  ?"  he  asked. 

"Anne  will  look  after  me,"  she  answered.  "I  don't 
suppose  you'll  be  mean  enough  to  put  her  against  me." 

"Why  should  I?"  said  Giles  mildly.  "I  am  only  too 
glad  to  help  you  in  any  way  I  can.  But  this  money  your 
father " 

"That  is  all  right.  Father  saw  Mr.  Asher,  the  lawyer, 
and  has  left  his  money  to  Anne,  every  penny  of  it.    I  get 


276  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

nothing,"  cried  Portia,  with  a  fresh  burst  of  grief;  "but 
I  do  hope  Anne  will  help  me.  I'm  sure  I've  always  been 
very  good  to  her,  even  though  she  isn't  my  sister." 

"Did  your  father  tell  you  she  wasn't?" 

"Yes.  He  said  she  was  an  adopted  child.  Though  why 
he  should  have  left  her  all,  and  me  nothing " 

Here  Portia  wept  again. 

Ware  saw  that  Denham  had  arranged  with  Asher  that 
her  father's  money  should  pass  to  Anne.  No  doubt  he 
had  told  the  lawyer  the  whole  history  of  the  imposture, 
and  Asher  would  now  take  steps  to  place  Anne  in  posses- 
sion of  her  fortune.  But  Denham  had  deceived  Portia, 
probably  because  he  wished  the  girl  to  think  well  of  him 
after  he  was  dead.  Giles  resolved  that  he  would  not  un- 
deceive the  girl. 

"I'll  see  that  things  are  made  easy  for  you,"  he  said. 
"Are  you  still  at  the  Priory  ?" 

"There's  nowhere  else  for  me  to  go  till  I  hear  from 
Anne." 

"Anne  is  in  town.  I'll  write  to  her,  and  we'll  see  what 
can  be  done." 

Portia  rose  to  go,  but  she  expressed  no  thanks  for  his 
kindness.  "So  you  are  to  marry  Anne,"  she  said.  "Well, 
I  hope  you'll  be  good  to  her." 

"Don't  you  think  I  shall  ?" 

Portia,  in  spite  of  her  grief,  tossed  her  head.  "I  don't 
know,"  she  said ;  "all  men  are  bad,  except  my  father, 
who  was  very,  very  good,"  and  she  looked  defiantly  at 
Giles  as  though  challenging  contradiction. 

But  Ware  was  too  sorry  for  the  girl  to  make  any  harsh 
remark.  He  walked  with  her  to  the  outer  door,  and  sent 
her  away  in  a  much  more  cheerful  mood.  Then  he  re- 
turned to  his  study,  and  found  Mrs.  Morley  already  seated 
near  his  desk.     She  looked  ill  and  worn,  but,  in  strange 


THE  END  OF  THE  TROUBLE  277 

contrast  to  her  usual  custom,  wore  a  colored  gown,  and 
evidently  had  been  trying  to  dress  herself  as  gaily  as 
possible.  She  saw  the  surprised  look  on  Giles's  face,  and 
guessed  its  meaning. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Ware,"  she  said,  plucking  at  her  dress,  "you 
see  I  have  my  holiday  clothes  on.  Even  though  Oliver 
has  left  me,  there  is  no  need  for  me  to  go  into  mourning. 
No.  He  has  deserted  me  basely.  I  am  determined  to 
show  the  world  that  I  don't  care." 

"Mrs.  Morley,  your  husband  is  dead." 

"Dead !"  She  half  started  from  her  chair,  but  sat  down 
again  with  a  white  face.  Then  to  Giles's  horror  she  be- 
gan to  laugh.  He  knew  that  Morley  had  been  a  bad  hus- 
band to  the  woman  before  him,  but  that  she  should  laugh 
on  hearing  of  his  death,  made  him  shiver.  He  hastily 
explained  how  Morley  had  met  with  his  fate,  and  Mrs. 
Morley  not  only  laughed  again,  but  clapped  her  gloved 
hands. 

"Dead !"  she  said  quite  gleefully.  "Ah !  he  was  lucky 
to  the  last." 

Ware  thought  that  the  widow  must  be  off  her  head 
to  talk  like  this;  but  Mrs.  Morley  was  perfectly  sane, 
and  her  exclamation  was  perfectly  natural,  as  he  soon 
learned.    She  enlightened  him  in  her  next  speech. 

"Don't  you  call  a  man  lucky,"  she  said  quietly,  "who 
died  like  my  husband  in  the  clean  waves  of  the  sea,  in- 
stead of  being  hanged  as  he  deserved  ?" 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  the  startled  Giles. 

"Can't  you  guess?"  She  drew  a  paper  out  of  her 
pocket.  "I  came  here  to  give  you  that,  Mr.  Ware.  The 
confession  of  my  wicked  husband." 

"Confession  ?" 

"Yes.     You   will  find  it  particularly  interesting,  Mr. 


278  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

Ware.     It  was  my  miserable  husband  who  murdered 
Daisy." 

"Never !''  gasped  Giles,  rising  aghast.  "He  was  in  the 
library  all  the  time.    You  told " 

"I  know  what  I  told,"  she  answered  quickly.  "I  did 
so  to  save  my  name  from  shame;  for  the  sake  of  my 
children  I  lied.  Oliver  did  not  deserve  the  mercy  I 
showed  him.  Base  to  the  last  he  deserted  me.  Now  he  is 
dead.  I  am  glad  to  hear  it."  She  paused  and  laughed. 
"I  shall  not  change  my  dress,  Mr.  Ware." 

"Don't,  Mrs.  Morley,"  he  said,  with  a  shudder. 

"Not  that  name,  if  you  please,"  she  said,  and  noting 
her  card  on  the  desk  she  tore  it  in  two.  Then  opening 
her  case  she  tore  the  other  cards  and  scattered  them  on 
the  floor.  "Mrs.  Morley  is  no  more.  I  am  ]\Irs.  War- 
ton.  That  is  the  name  of  my  first  husband — my  true 
husband — the  father  of  my  three  children.  Yes,  Mr. 
Ware,  I  have  sold  my  furniture,  and  let  The  Elms.  To- 
morrow I  leave  for  the  south  of  France  with  my  children. 
I  land  in  France  as  Mrs.  Warton,  and  the  old  life  is  gone 
for  ever.    Can  you  blame  me?" 

"From  what  I  know  of  Morley  I  cannot,"  he  stam- 
mered. "But  what  do  you  know,  Mrs.  Mor — I  mean  Mrs. 
Warton  ?" 

"I  know  everything.  Listen,  Mr,  Ware.  When  Oliver 
married  me  I  was  in  love  with  him.  I  thought  he  loved 
me  for  myself.  But  it  was  my  money  he  was  after.  Some 
time  after  our  marriage  I  found  that  he  was  a  gambler. 
He  lost  all  my  money  at  cards.  Fortunately  there  was  a 
sum  of  a  thousand  a  year  settled  on  me  which  he  could 
not  touch,  nor  was  he  able  to  touch  the  money  left  to 
my  children.  All  the  rest  (and  there  was  a  great  deal) 
he  wheedled  out  of  me  and  spent." 

"I  wonder  you  did  not  put  an  end  to  him  long  ago.    I 


THE  END  OF  THE  TROUBLE  279 

mean  I  should  have  thought  you  would  separate  from  the 
scoundrel." 

Mrs.  Morley  sighed.  "I  loved  him,"  she  said  in  low 
tones.  "It  took  me  many  a  long  day  to  stamp  that  love 
out  of  my  heart.  I  did  all  he  wished  me  to  do.  I  took 
The  Elms  and  obtained  the  guardianship  of  Daisy.  I 
never  thought  that  he  had  any  design  in  getting  me  to 
take  her  to  live  with  us.  I  was  one  of  her  father's  old- 
est friends  and  loved  the  girl.  Morley  managed  the  af- 
fair in  such  a  manner  that  I  did  what  he  wished  without 
knowing  I  was  being  coerced." 

"Morley  was  a  very  clever  man." 

"And  a  wicked  man,"  said  his  widow,  without  emotion. 
"I  can  only  think  of  the  way  he  behaved  to  me  and  mine. 
Daisy  always  hated  him.  I  could  never  get  her  to  like 
him.  I  don't  know  what  he  said  or  did  to  her — he  al- 
ways seemed  to  me  to  treat  her  with  kindness — but  she 
had  an  antipathy  to  him.  He  thought  when  she  got  the 
Powell  money  he  would  do  what  he  liked  with  her  and  it. 
But  when  he  saw  she  was  hostile  to  him  he  determined 
then  on  her  murder." 

"You  did  not  know  that  at  the  time  ?''  said  Giles  breath- 
lessly. 

"No.  Certainly  I  did  not,  or  I  should  have  sent  the 
girl  away.  I  am  only  talking  by  the  light  of  recent  events. 
When  that  man  came  to  tell  Morley  about  the  death  of 
Powell  he  knew  that  Daisy  would  leave  the  house  and 
marry  you  as  soon  as  she  got  the  fortune.  He  tried  to 
induce  Denham  when  he  was  in  the  Ubrary  to  kill  Daisy, 
and  took  down  the  stiletto  for  that  purpose.  Denham  re- 
fused. Then  there  was  a  man  called  Dane,  who  came  with 
a  message.  Morley  asked  him  likewise  to  kill  the  girl, 
and  was  likewise  refused.  He  saw  there  was  nothing  for 
it  but  to  murder  Daisy  himself.    In  a  day  or  so  it  would 


28o  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

have  been  too  late,  as  she  would  hear  about  the  money  and 
leave  the  house.  Morlcy  took  the  stiletto  and  went  to  the 
church  in  the  hope  of  killing  her  when  she  came  out  and 
was  amidst  the  crowd  of  people.  He  hoped  to  escape  un- 
observed." 

"A  rash  idea.'"  observed  Giles. 

"Oh,  its  safety  lay  in  its  rashness,"  said  the  widow 
coldly.  "Well,  it  happened  that  Denham  lured  Daisy  out 
of  the  church  and  did  not  follow  for  some  time.  Morley 
looking  at  the  door  saw  her  come  out.  She  waited  for  a 
moment  and  then  walked  to  her  father's  grave.  Morley 
followed  and  killed  her  by  stabbing  her  in  the  back  as 
she  knelt  in  the  snow  by  the  grave.  She  fell  forward 
with  a  cry.  He  would  have  repeated  the  blow  but  that 
he  saw  Denham  coming.  He  fled  back  to  the  house.  I 
was  in  the  library  when  he  arrived.  He  made  some  ex- 
cuse, and  I  never  thought  anything  w-as  wrong." 

"Had  he  the  stiletto  with  him  ?" 

"I  believe  he  had,  but  I  did  not  see  it.  Afterwards  he 
took  the  stiletto  back  to  the  churchyard  and  pretended  to 
find  it,  so  that  Anne  might  be  accused.  Denham  never 
suspected  Morley  of  the  crime.  Why,  I  don't  know,  as 
any  one  who  knew  wdiat  I  have  told  you  about  his  offers 
to  Denham  and  Dane  must  have  guessed  that  Morley  was 
guilty." 

"How  did  you  learn  all  this?''  asked  Giles,  glancing  at 
the  confession  which  was  in  Morley's  own  handwriting. 

"At  various  times.  I  did  not  suspect  him  at  first.  But 
one  thing  led  to  another  and  I  watched  him.  I  got  at  his 
papers  and  discovered  all  about  the  Scarlet  Cross, 
and " 

"Wait.  Mrs.  Morley — T  mean  Warton.  Did  Morley 
write  that  anonymous  letter  which  accused  Anne?" 

"Yes.    He  did  so,  in  case  it  was  necessary  to  kill  Daisy. 


THE  END  OF  THE  TROUBLE  281 

He  hoped  by  hinting  beforehand  that  Anne  would  be  ac- 
cused. It  was  Anne's  foolish  speech  to  Daisy,  saying  she 
would  kill  her,  that  gave  him  the  idea.  But  she  meant 
nothing  by  it.  It  was  only  a  few  hot  words.  However, 
Morley  used  them  to  his  own  end.  Well,  Mr.  Ware,  I 
found  out  about  the  thieving  gang,  and  then  learned  for 
the  first  time  the  kind  of  man  I  had  married.  My  love 
died  out  of  my  heart  at  once.  I  took  to  thinking  how  I 
could  get  away  from  him.  He  used  to  mutter  in  his 
sleep,  having  an  uneasy  conscience." 

"I  should  think  he  was  too  strong  a  man  to  have  a 
conscience." 

"Well,  he  muttered  in  his  sleep  at  all  events.  From 
what  he  said  I  discovered  that  he  had  something  to  do 
with  the  death  of  Daisy.  I  accused  him,  and  told  him 
that  I  knew  all  about  his  Scarlet  Cross  wickedness.  He 
denied  the  truth  of  this  at  first.  Afterwards,  little  by 
little,  I  got  the  truth  out  of  him.  I  then  made  him  write 
out  that  confession  and  sign  it,  so  that  I  could  save  Anne 
should  she  be  caught.  I  promised  for  the  sake  of  my 
own  name  and  my  children  not  to  use  the  confession  un- 
less Anne  was  taken.  That  is  why  Morley  ran  away  with 
Anne,  He  fancied  that  she  would  continue  to  bear  the 
blame,  and  also" — here  Mrs.  Wharton  hesitated  and 
glanced  at  Giles — 'T  fancy  that  Oliver  was  in  love  with 
Miss  Denham." 

"The  scoundrel!"  cried  Giles  furiously. 

Mrs.  Wharton — as  she  now  called  herself — laughed 
coldly  and  rose  to  depart.  "I  don't  think  it  matters  much 
now,"  she  said.     "Anne  was  not  drowned  also,  was  she  ?" 

"No,"  replied  Ware,  shuddering;  "she  is  in  London, 
and  I  hope  shortly  to  make  her  my  wife." 

"I  wish  her  all  happiness,"  said  Mrs.  Wharton,  without 
emotion.    "I  always  liked  Anne,  and  for  her  sake  I  se- 


282  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

cured  that  confession.  That,  when  pubUshed,  will  vin- 
dicate her  character.  You  need  have  no  hesitation  in 
showing  it  to  the  police  and  in  letting  that  detective  deal 
with  it  as  he  thinks  fit.  In  a  few  days  I  shall  be  in  France 
under  the  name  of  Mrs.  Wharton,  and  the  past  will  be 
dead  to  me.     Good-bye."    She  held  out  her  hand. 

"Good-bye,"  answered  Giles,  shaking  it  heartily.  "I 
trust  you  will  be  happy,  Mrs.  Wharton." 

"I  shall  be  at  peace,  if  nothing  else,"  she  replied,  and 
so  passed  from  the  room,  and  out  of  his  life. 

Giles  showed  the  confession  to  Steel,  who  was  delight- 
ed that  the  real  culprit  had  at  last  been  discovered.  But 
he  was  sorely  disappointed  at  the  suicide  of  Denham. 
"It  spoils  the  case,"  he  said. 

"You  are  going  to  bring  the  matter  into  court,  then," 
said  Giles. 

"Of  course.  I  want  some  reward  for  my  labor,  Mr. 
Ware.  Til  break  up  that  gang.  I  must  publish  this  con- 
fession in  order  to  save  your  future  wife  from  further 
blame.  Not  that  it  will  matter  much,"  he  added,  "for 
Miss  Denham — I  should  rather  say  Miss  Franklin — has 
gone  to  Styria  with  her  mother  and  half-sister." 

"I  know,"  answered  Giles  quietly.  "I  join  them  there 
in  a  week." 

"Well,  Mr.  Ware,  I  congratulate  you,  and  I  hope  you'll 
have  a  good  time.  You  deserve  it  from  the  way  in  which 
you  have  worked  over  this  case." 

"What  about  yourself.  Steel  ?" 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right.  Dane,  Morley,  and  Denham  are 
dead,  which  is  a  pity,  as  they  arc  the  chief  villians  of  the 
play.  Still,  I'll  contrive  to  punish  those  others  and  get 
some  kudos  out  of  the  business.  And  I  must  thank  you, 
Mr.  Ware,  for  that  reward." 

"It  was  Miss  Anne's  idea,"  replied  Ware.     "She  will 


THE  END  OF  THE  TROUBLE  283 

soon  be  put  in  possession  of  her  money,  and  asked  me  to 
give  you  the  reward.  It  is  half  from  her  and  half  from 
me." 

"And  I  believed  her  guilty,"  said  Steel  regretfully ;  "but 
I'll  make  amends,  Mr.  Ware.  I'll  keep  her  name  out  of 
this  business  as  much  as  I  can,  consistently  with  the  evi- 
dence." 

Steel  was  as  good  as  his  word.  The  thieves  were  tried, 
but  Anne  was  not  mentioned  in  connection  with  their  rob- 
beries. As  regards  the  murder,  the  confession  of  Mor- 
ley  was  made  public  and  every  one  knew  that  Anne  was 
guiltless.  In  fact,  she  was  applauded  for  the  way  in 
which  she  had  helped  her  supposed  father  to  escape.  The 
papers  called  the  whole  episode  romantic,  but  the  papers 
never  knew  the  entire  truth,  nor  that  Anne  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  Princess  Karacsay.  Not  even  Mrs.  Parry 
learned  as  much  as  she  should  have  Hked  to  learn.  But 
what  scraps  of  information  she  did  become  possessed  of, 
she  wove  into  a  thrilling  story  which  fully  maintained  her 
reputation  as  a  scandal-monger.  And  she  was  always 
Anne's  friend,  being  particularly  triumphant  over  the  fact 
that  she  had  never  believed  her  to  be  guilty. 

"And  I  hope,"  said  Mrs.  Parry  generally,  "that  every 
one  will  believe  what  I  say  in  the  future;"  which  every 
one  afraid  of  her  tongue  pretended  to  do. 

Giles  and  Anne  were  married  from  the  castle  of  Prince 
Karacsay,  in  Styria.  The  Prince  took  a  great  fancy  to 
Anne  Franklin,  and  learned  the  truth  about  her  paren- 
tage. But  this  was  not  made  public.  It  was  simply  sup- 
posed that  she  was  a  young  English  lady  who  was  the 
intimate  friend  of  Princess  Olga.  But  every  one  was 
surprised  when  the  elder  Princess  at  the  wedding  threw 
over  Anne's  neck  a  magnificent  necklace  of  uncut  em- 


284  A  COIN  OF  EDWARD  VII. 

erald.  "It  belonged  to  your  father's  mother,  dear," 
whispered  the  Princess  as  she  kissed  the  bride. 

Olga  married  Count  Taroc,  and  settled  down  into  the 
meekest  of  wives.  Giles  and  Anne  heard  of  the  marriage 
while  on  their  honeymoon  in  Italy.  They  had  taken  a 
villa  at  Sorrento  and  were  seated  out  on  the  terrace  when 
the  letter  came,  Anne  expressed  herself  glad. 

"And  you  are  pleased  too,  dear,"  she  said  to  Giles. 

"Very  pleased,"  he  replied,  with  emphasis,  whereat  she 
laughed. 

"I  know  why  you  are  pleased,"  she  said,  in  answer  to 
his  look.  "Olga  told  me  how  deeply  she  was  in  love  with 
you.  But  her  cure  was  as  quick  as  her  disease  was  viru- 
lent. She  never  would  have  harmed  me,  my  dear.  Olga 
was  always  fond  of  me — and  of  you." 

Giles  flushed  and  laughed. 

"Well,  it's  all  over  now,"  he  said,  "and  I  am  glad  she 
is  married.  But  let  us  talk  about  yourself.  Are  you 
happy  after  all  your  troubles,  dearest  ?" 

"Very  happy,  Giles.  I  regret  nothing.  Portia,  thanks 
to  you.  Is  m  a  good  home.     But  my^poor  father " 

"Don't  call  Denham  that,  Anne,"  he  said,  with  a  frown. 

She  kissed  it  away. 

"He  was  always  very  good  to  me,"  she  said.  "I  tried 
to  save  him,  as  you  know.  I  believed  that  he  had  killed 
Daisy  by  some  mistake.  But  really,  Giles,  I  did  not  stop  to 
think.  I  knew  that  my — I  mean  Denham — was  in  dan- 
ger of  his  life,  and  I  could  not  rest  until  I  had  placed 
him  in  safety." 

"And  you  defended  him  afterwards,  Anne — that  time 
we  met  in  the  churchyard.  You  quite  endorsed  his  story 
of  the  invented  Walter  Franklin." 

"Don't  reproach  me,  Giles.  I  had  promised  Denham 
to  say  what  I  did ;  and  not  even  for  your  dear  sake  could 


THE  END  OF  THE  TROUBLE  285 

I  break  my  word.  He  was  a  good  man  in  many  ways ; 
but,  as  you  say  yourself,  it  is  all  over.  Let  us  forget 
him  and  his  tragic  end." 

"And  Morley's." 

Anne  shivered.  "He  was  the  worst.  Oh,  what  a  ter- 
rible time  I  had  on  board  that  boat,  when  I  found  he  was 
deceiving  me.  I  thought  he  was  taking  me  to  Denham, 
and  I  wanted  to  see  what  he — I  mean  Denham — would 
say  to  my  mother's  statement.  I  thought  he  might  be 
able  to  show  that  he  was  not  so  bad  as  she " 

"Not  another  word,"  said  Ware,  taking  her  in  his  arms. 
"Let  us  leave  the  old  bad  past  alone,  and  live  in  the  pres- 
ent. See" — he  took  a  parcel  out  of  his  pocket — "I  have 
had  this  made  for  you." 

Anne  opened  the  package,  and  found  therein  the  coin 
of  Edward  VH.  set  as  a  brooch  and  surrounded  by  bril- 
liants. 

"Oh,  how  delightful!"  she  said,  with  a  true  woman's 
appreciation  of  pretty  things. 

"It  is  the  dearest  thing  in  the  world  to  me,  save  you, 
Anne,"  he  said.  "Twice  that  coin  brought  me  to  you. 
But  for  it  I  should  never  have  been  by  your  side  now." 

"No!" 

She  kissed  the  coin  again  and  fastened  it  at  her  throat, 
where  it  glittered  a  pretty,  odd  ornament. 

"You  waste  your  kisses,"  cried  Giles,  and  took  her  to 
his  breast. 

THE  END. 


wot  CALIFORNIA  LIBBARY 
.       mt"a..da...>»■"P•■'"'""" 


3  1158  01221  8771 


SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY^^ 


AA    000  367  777    o 


